Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 42, Note on Digital Production Creation of machine-readable edition. Cornell University Library 962 page images in volume Cornell University Library Ithaca, NY 1999 ABK4014-0042 /moa/harp/harp0042/

Restricted to authorized users at Cornell University and the University of Michigan. These materials may not be redistributed.

Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 42, Note on Digital Production 0042 000
Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 42, Note on Digital Production A-B

Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 42, Issue 247 [an electronic edition] Creation of machine-readable edition. Cornell University Library 962 page images in volume Cornell University Library Ithaca, NY 1999 ABK4014-0042 /moa/harp/harp0042/

Restricted to authorized users at Cornell University and the University of Michigan. These materials may not be redistributed.

Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 42, Issue 247 International monthly magazine Harper's monthly magazine Harper & Bros. New York December 1870 0042 247
Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 42, Issue 247, miscellaneous front pages i-viii

~HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. VOLUME XLII. DECEMBER, 1870, TO MAY, 1871. NEW YORK: HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, 327 to 335 PEARL STREET~ FRANKLIN SQUARL 187 1. / C cl 7 / 7 CONTENTS OF VOLUME XLII. DECEMBER, 1870, TO MAY, 1871. A VIGIL S. S. ~Jonant 40 AFFAIR ON A TOMBSTONE, AN Katherine G. Ware 569 ALONG THE FLORIDA REEF (lUastrated) Dr. J. B. Holder 355, 515, 706, 820 AMERICAN BARON, THE Prof. James Be Mile 321, 481, 641, 862 ILLUSTRATIONs. Pardon, Mees 321 Very well. Here it is 494 Another Man ! 328 She caught Minnie in her Arms 641 He bent his Head down, etc 330 Ill let him know what I think of him... 644 I saw her turn and wave her Hand 333 Hallo, old Man, whats up now? 645 I bent down close 335 I stood transfixed 646 The Meeting 481 Its he! she murmured 649 By Jove, I knew it! 483 Then she finng herself upon the Sofa.... 681 The Fiery Trial 486 To Rome! he muttered 863 All gone; my Eyebrows and Mustache.. 487 Two of them grasped the Stranger 810 Confound such a Man! I say 490 He kissed her several Times 8~2 Hawbury sank back in his Seat 491 ANCIENT LADY OF SORROW, THE H Mi Alden 294 ANNE FURNESS By the Author of Mabels Progress, etc. 123, 243, 435, 597, 885 ANTEROS By the Author of Guy Livingstone 80, 263, 401, 590, 903 ARCHIE IIUTCHINGTON B. R~ Gastleton 853 ASLEEP Mary N Prescott 363 BANK OF ST. GEORGE, GENOA, THE 0. Mi. Spencer 392 ILLUSTRATIONs. A Portion of the Old Faiade 393 Bank.Bill of 1522 391 Ancient Seal of Genoa 394 The Archives 398 The Holy Grail 394 Autograph Letter of Columbus 399 An Angle of the Grand Council-Chamber... 395 Seal of St. George 400 St. Georges Ballot-Boxes 396 BLIND R. II. Stoddard 200 BLOCKADE-RUNNING TV. B. Hoo~per 105 BOMBAY AND THE PARSEES A. U. (onstable 66 ILLUSTRATIONS. Group of Parsee Children 66 Pagoda at Malabar Hill 72 Bombay and its Environs (Map) 67 Principal Grotto of Kanheri 13 Parsee Lady and her Daughter 68 Fatade of a Grotto of Kanheri 74 Parsee of Bombay 69 The Hill of Kanheri 75 Converts to Christianity 70 BOWERY, SATURDAY NIGHT TV. 0. Stoddard 670 ILLUSTRATIONS. Infant Germany 610 A very low Liver 675 Old Clo Shops 671 Not at Home 676 The Bowery Shojp-Girl 612 Redeeming a Pledge 616 Unattractive Exile 612 A German Institution 611 Fruit Stand 613 The Hero of the Bowery Drama 618 Old Bowery Theatre 614 Celeliration of the Capitulation of Sedan... 619 Patent Soap Vendor 675 BRITTANY, LIFE IN.II. BRETON PEASANTS George 1L Towle 30 ILLUSTRATIONS. A Rainy Day in Brittany 31 Marriage Festivities 35 Sunday in BrittanyLeaving Church 33 A Breton Pardon 38 BROOKLYN NAVY-YARD, THE W.F.G.Shanlcs I ILLUSTRATIONS. Main Avenue, Brooklyn Navy-Yard 1 Reliel Torpedo Midge 9 Saluting Battery 3 Sail-making 9 Ordnance Dock 4 Iron Demck 10 Mortar Battery 5 Marine Barracks 11 Old Figure-Head 6 Marine Hospital 11 Round House 7 A Relic of the Oneida 12 Dry Dock 8 Receiving-Ship Vermont 13 CANDLEMAS NIGHT, THE SHADOW OF Mirs. harriet Prescott Spofford 424 CASTLE GARDEN, A DAY IN Louis Bagger 547 ILLUSTRATIONS. Das muss der Palast sam 641 Interior of Castle Garden 551 Registering Names 548 The Mecklenburger 552 Castle GardenView from the Battery 549 Reading Letters from Friends 552 Railroad Office 549 Meeting of Friends 554 Exchange Brokers Office 550 Immigrant Runner 556 CONTENTS. CHIMNEY-SWALLOWS IDYL, THE Mrs. B. H. Stoddard 922 CHRISTMAS PAST, THE VOICE OF Airs. Zadel B. Buddington 187 CHRISTMAS SHEAF, THE Phe3be Gary 277 COLLECTED BY A VALETUDINARIAN Abs. B. H. Stoddard 96 COLUMBUS, AN EXAMINATION OF THE CLAIMS OF Rev. AL Maury 425, 527 iLLUsTRATIONS. Globe of M. BehaimEurope and America.. 426 Globe of Martin BehaimAsia 428 Globe of John SchbnerWestern Hemisphere, 430 COSTER, ANNA VALLAYER (With a Portrait) Benson .1. Lossing 719 COTTAGE AND HALL Alice Gary 514 CRUISING Carl Spencer 705 DAUGHTER OF MUSIC, A Justin MUarthy 259 DEAD-HEADED Miss S. C. Woolsey 919 DISILLUSION Elizabeth Alcers Allen 810 DOLLIVER FAMILY, THE Annie Moore 226 ILLUSTRATIONS. The Family 226 Waldemar 229 Fanny Dale 227 Their Enemies 210 Captain Diomed 227 How! What! Which! Where ! 232 The Departure 228 Bless you, my Children ! 232 Mauselein and the Frog 229 DOMINIC AND THE INQUISITION Eugene Lawrence 730 EDITORS EASY CHAIR. CHAIR FOR DECEMBER 135 CHAIR FOR MARCH 614 CHAIR FOR JANUARY 295 CHAIR FOR APRIL 771 CiIAIR FOR FEBRUARY 453 CHAIR FOR MAY 923 EDITORS DRAWER. DRAWER FOR ~ECEMBRR 154 DRAWER FOR MARCH 635 DRAWER FOR JANUARY 315 DRAWER FOR APRIL 794 DRAWER FOR FEBRUARY 474 DRAWER FOR MAY 946 EDITORS HISTORICAL RECORD. UNITED STATEs.The Autumn Elections, 153, 313. CANADA.Presidents Message on the Fisheries Senator Mortons Appointment as Minister to En- Question, etc., 471. The High Commission, 790. gland, 153; he declines the Mission, 313 Resigna- SOUTH AND CENTRAL AanunoA.Presidents Mes- tion of General.J. D. Cox, 313. Opening of the Third sage on the Cuban Insurrection, 470; on the Peace Session of the Forty-first Congress, 470. The Presi- Conference between Spain and the South American dents Annual Message, 470. San Domingo, as Republics, 471; on San Domingo, 471; on the Mex- treated in the Presidents Message, 471. The San ican Free Zone, 471 Caballero De Rufus resigns Domingo Commission, 630, 792. Revival of Corn- and is succeeded by Valmaseda, as Captain-General merceSuggestions of the President, 472; Congres- of Cuba, 632. Situation of the Cuban Insurgents, sional Bills relating to, 473, 790. Expenses of the 792. Hurricane in Cuba, 154. Cuban Affairs, 943. Government, 472. Reduction of Taxation, 472, 473.. Cabrals Revolution in San Domingo, 632. Grant of Civil Service Reform, 472. The Public Lands, 472. the Mexican Congress to Tehuantepec Canal, 632. Patents, 473. The Census Bureau, 473. Pensions, Capture of Maracaiho, 632. Captain Seifridges 473, 789. Indian Council at Ocmulgee, 631; Presi- Darien Expedition, 792. Radical Triumph in Porto dents Message on, 790. Connecticut Democratic Rico 944 Improvements in Jamaica, 944. Meeting Convention 631 Connecticut Republican Conven- of IM~exican Congress, 944. Columbia and Bolivia, tion, 791. ~tatistics of the Income Tax, 631. Sta- 944. tistics of Commercial Credit 790. Affairs in North Euiiors.Siege of Paris, 153. Peace Negotiations Carolina and Arkansas, 791. Carnivals at Washing- between Bismarck and Favre, 154. Surrender of ton and New Orleans, 791. The New Hampshire Toni Strasburg, and Soissons, 154. Gambettas Election, 943. The New Loan, 943. Conviction of Proclamation, 154. Surrender of Mets, 313. The Governor Holden, 943. The High Commission, 943. Abortive Armistice, 313. Defeat of the Army of the Disesters153, 313, 631, 632, 791, 943, 945. Loire, 473. Fatal Delay of the French, 633. Unsub- Cengress470, 473, 630, 631, 789, 790. Congressional cessful Sorties, 633. Defeat of ChanEy at Le Mans, Action on the Income Tax, 473, 789, 942. Robert ~33. The Army of the North, 633. Bourbakis Fail- C. Scheuck, appointed Minister to England, resigns ,~re in the East, 633. Bombardment of Paris, 633. his Seat in the House, 630. Alabama Claims, 630. ~u~render of Paris, 792. Capture of Longwy, 792. Salaries of Chief Justice and his Associate ,631, 790. Tenzrs of the Armistice, 792. Election of Members Territorial Government for District of Columbia, df the National Assembly, 793. Proceedings of the 631, 79fi& eonfirmation of D. D. Porter as Admiral, As4embly, 793. The Provisional Government, 793. 631 Representatives and Senators from Georgia, Proclamation of Louis Napoleon, 793. The Franco 631. Newly elected Senators 631 791. Pension Prussian Treaty, 944. Napoleons Protest, 944. Ger- Acts, 789. Commissioner of ~Fish~ries, 789. The ihan Entry into Paris, 944. Paris under the Mob, West Point Cadets, 789. Homesteads for Sailors and 945. Changes in the British Cabinet 634. The Queens Soldiers, 789. The Test Oath, 789. Railroad Grants, Speech, 793. Mr. Disraelis Attack on the Govern- 789, 790, 941. Assistance to Sufferers from the Eu- meat, 793. Army Reform 793 Vote in Rome on ropean War, 790. The BrooklynNavy-Yard, 790. Ap- Annexation to Italy, 154; 1~lemoval of the Capital to propriations for Public Buildings, 790, 942. Southern Rome, 634. Italy and the Pope, 793. Opening of Pacific Railroad, 790, 941. The High Commission, the North German Parliament, 473. Opening of the 790. The Steamboat Bill, 941. Congressional Election Reichstag, 945. The Luxembourg Difficulty 473, Bill, 942. Centennial Celebration, 1876, 942. Consti- 793. Bismarck on Neutral Rights 634. Rehatiita- tution of the Forty-second Congress, 942. Southern tion of the German Empire, 634. he Duke of Aosta Affairs, 942. chosen King of Spain, 154; his Election by the Obituery.General R. E. Lee, 153. Mrs. General Cortes, 314; his Assumption of the Crown, 634. As- Belkuap, 632. George Holland, 632. Hon. John sassination of General Prim, 634. Russias Protest Covode, 632. Thomas Garrett, 791. George Ticknor, against the Treaty of 1856, 314. The London Con 791. Alice Cary, 776, 791. J. B. Magruder, 791. ference, 654, 945. Mrs. Hawthorne, 945. Robert Chambers, 945. AsIA.Chinese Affairs, 314, 654. EDITORS LITERARY RECORD. Harpers School and Family Series of Readers, 141. 141. Dr. Harts Composition and Rhetoric, 141. Literary Selections for the Students of the Normal Smiths Condensed Etymology of the English Lan- School for Young Ladies of the City of New York, guage for Common Schools, 141. Frenchs Mental C I CONTENTS. LITERARY RzooimCentinued. Arithmetic, 14L Pecks Elementary Treatise on Gods Church, 621. Paynes Prophecy a Preparatioii Mechanics, 141. Wilisons New Speller and Analyzer, for Christ, 621. Murrays Outline of Sir William 141. Estelle Russell, 141. Sands Monsieur Sylves- Hamiltons Philosophy, 622. Headleys Sacred Heroes tre, 142. Benjamins Choice of Paris, 142. The Heir and Martyrs, 622. Hunts Bihie Notes for Daily Read- Expectant, 142. Dickenss Mystery of Edwin Drood, ers, 622. Eurnesss Jesus, 622. Grays The Childrens 142. Hitchcocks New and Complete Analysis of the Crusade, 622. Ahhotts Prussia and the Franco- Holy Bible, 142. Grace Agnilars Women of Israel, Prussian War, 622. Hugos The Destroyer of the 142. Saving Knowledge, 143. Clarks Work-day Second Republic, 622. Renans Constitutional Mon- Christianity, 143. Dr. Wilherforce5 Heroes of He- archy in France, 622. Adamss Memoir of Washiiig- brew History, 143. Dr. ~olloy5 Geology and Reve- ton irving, 622. Mrs. Austins 1he Shadow of Mo- lation, 143. Langes Commentary, 143. Dr. Hannas loch tlountain, 622. By the Sea, 622. Shiloh, 622. Life of Christ, 143. Mommsefl5 History of Rome, Mrs. Charless The Victory of the Vanquished, 623. 143. Scotts School History of the United States, 144. Taylors Translation of Faust, 623. Whittiers Mir- Irvings Life of Washington, condensed, 14-4~ Bonars iam, 624. Brownes The Suitors, 624. Wisemans Life of Rev. John Mime, 145. Life of Arthur Tap- Translation of Lenore, 624. Lon~fellows Poets and pan, 145. Chamberss Cyclopedia, 145. Appletons Poetry, 624. Lowells Posies for Children, 624. Ken- Almanac, 300. Josh Billingss Allminax, 300. Nasts dricks Our Poetical Favorites, 624. Alice Cary, 776. Almanac, 300. Beechers Morning and Evening Ex- Plutarchs Morals, 777. The Bret Harte Literature, ercises, 300. The Adventures of a Young Naturalist 777. Rawlinsons Manual of Ancient History, 778. in Mexico 301. Fbuiers Earth and Sea 301. Pon- Dr. Thomass Universal Pronouncing Dictionary of chets Universe, se~ond Edition, 301. Weidenmans Biography and Mythology, 778. The Recovery of Beautifying Country Homes, 301. Herberts Poetical Jerusalem, 778. Maudsleys Body and Mind, 778. Works, 301. Miltons Ode to the Nativity, illustrated, Mimprisss Gospel Treasury, 779. Hamiltons Moses, 302. Mrs. Brownings Poetical Works, 332. Bryants the Man of God, 779. Macduffs Memories of Patmos, Song of the Sower, 302. Mother Goose in her New 779. MCalls Culture and the Gospel, 779. Crosbys Dress,302. Rolfes Edition of the Merchant of Yen- Jesus: His Life and Work, 779. De Mules Crypto- ice, 303. Dickenss The Childs Dream of a Star, 303. gram, 779. Trollopes Sir Harry Hotspur of Humble- Grimms Household Stories, 303. Popular Fairy thwaite, 779. Mrs. Prentisss Life and Nature under Tales, 303. Miscellaneous 304 New Department the Tropics, 780. Miss Mulocks Fair France, 780. in Harpers Weekly, 1105. ~Uhe Speakers Commen- Tames Rome and Naples, 780. Whites Words and tary, 459. Bulwers Life of Palmerston, 459. Thins their Uses, 781. Porters Books and Reading, 781. Tien-tsin Massacre, 489. Zells Cyclopedia, 459. II. W. Prestons Aspendale, 781. Lewiss Our Girls, Konewkas Evening Amusement, 460. Lays of the 928. Ginxs Baby, 928. The Pilgrim and the Shrine, Holy Land, 460. Tony and Puss, 460. Elloarts From 929. Barness Life at Threescore-and-Ten, 929. ThistlesGrapes? 460. Which is the Heroine? 460. Parkers Ad Clerum, 929. Seelycs Lectures and Es- Collinss The Vivian Romance, 460. In Duty Bound, says, 929. Washburns History of Paraguay, 930. 450. Judds Margaret, 460. Valerie Aylmer, 460. Life of John Adams, 930. Morilets Travels in Ceo- Douglasss With Fate against Him, 460. Taylors tral America, 930. Earls Dune, 930. Daisy Nichol, Joseph and his Friend, 461. What was She? 461. 931. Miss Mulocks Translation of Motherless, 931. Ingelows Monitions of theUnseen,461. Weekss Epi- Bred in the Bone, 931. Fentons Quest, 931. Blue sodes and Lyric Pieces, 461. Light at Even-tide, 461. Jackets, 931. Emma Parker; or, Scenes in the Thompsons The Theology of Christ, 461. Bagsters Homes of time City Poor, 931. Miss Warners Oppor- Analytical Greek Lexicon, 461. Beechers Our Seven tunities, 931. Brotherheads Himself his Worst En- Churches, 462. Huxleys Lay Sermons, Essays, and emy, 93L MacDonalds Phantastes, 931. The Win- Reviews, 462. Lubbocks Origin of Civilization, 462. dow; or, The Songs of the Wrens, 931. Mrs. Clem- Strength and Skill, 462. Lockyers Astronomy, 463. ents Hand-Book of Legendary and Mythological Miscellaneous, 463. Alexandre Dumas, 620. Albert Art, 932. Todds Apple Culturist, 932. Bernards Barnes, 620. Dean Alford of Canterbury, 621. Blunts Wonderful Escapes, 932. Lady Beichers Mutineers Dictionary of Doctrinal and Historical Theology, 621. of the Bounty, 912. New Materials for American Smiths Bible Dictionary, 62t Ponds History of History in Austrian Archives, 932. EDITORS SCIENTIFIC RECORD. Relation of Blood to Life, 146. Physiological Ef- 309. Systematic Position of Pterodactyls, 309. Ety- fects of Alcohol, 146. Effervescent Citrate of Ma~- mology of the Name horse-Chestnut, 309. Per- nesia, 146. The Opossum as a House Pest in Costa tuiset Powder, 110k Confusion of Names of Fishes, Rica, 146. Extinction of Siberian Mammoth, 147. 310. Relationships of Phyiloxera, 310. Lead-Foil American Shells in European Waters, 147. Eucalyp- for Dressing Wounds, 310. Seguin Collection of tus-Tree, 147. Carbuncle in Animals, 147. Test of Fossil Mammals, 310. Simple Mode of rearing Mush- actual Death, 145. Microscopic Examination of va- rooms, 310. Detection of Logwood Dye in Wine, rious Atmospheres, 145. Physiology of Meat Ex- 310. Fungus Growth on Insects, 310. Andrews on tracts, 148. Reproduction in Nais, 148. New Aus- the Chronology of American Lakes, 311. Toselli tralian Fish, 148. Action of Chloroform on Plants, Method of cooling Liquids without Ice, 311. Value 149. Longevity of Animals, 149. Ozone produced of Ruvaccination in Small-Pox, 311. Effect on the by Flowers and Essences, 149. Increase of Temper- Frog of the Removal of the Brain, 311. Comparative ature by Nervous Action, 149. Canine Madness in Period of Melting of Natural and Artificial Ice, 312. France, 150. Typhoid Fever, 150. Mr. Swainsons Allios of the Plains of Southern France, 312. Collection of Birds, 150. Organic Effect of differ- Breeding Ostriches in Captivity, 312. Ratio between ently colored Light, 150. Huxleys Classification of the Size of the Chick and the Egg, 313. Purification Races, 150. Colored Starch, 151. Bleaching by Oil of Gypsum Waters, 313. Rate of Nervous Excitation, of TurpentIne, 151. Cause of Motion of Glaciers, 464. Supposed natural Origin of some Forest Fires, 151. Large Scottish Salmon, 151. Aymara Indians 464. Man in the Tertiary Period, 464. Cultivation of Bolivia, 151. Glucose in Fermenting Liquids, 151. of the Cinchona - Tree in Algiers, 464. Cure of Organic Matter in Water, 151. Temperature of the chronic Somnambulism, 464. German Explorations Cranial Cavity, 152. Ratio of Height to Weight of in Greenland, 464. Deep-Sea Soundings in the Adri- the Human Body, 152. Currents of the North At- atic, 465. Use of Sulphate of Baryta in Whitewash- lantic, 152. Continuity of Liquid and Gaseous Forms lug, 465. Embossing Wood, 465. Pale Yellow for of Matter, 153. Nature of the Suns Corona, 305. Signals, 465. Exploration of Eastern Asia, 465. Poisonous Serpents in Australia, 306. Hermit Crabs Temperature of the Sun, 466. Reduction of native climbing Trees, 306. Danger from using the Waste Sulphides, 466. The Microscope in Geology, 466. Gas of Furnaces, 306. Purification of Olive-Oil, 306. Alkalinity of Carbonate of Lime, 466. Protection Changtng the Colors of the Flowers of the Hy- against Sea-Sickness, 466. Vision of the young Mole, dran~,ea, 306. Phillip Carbo-Oxygen Lamp, 306. 466. Aluminium for small Weights, 466. Boiling Testing Adulteration of Milk, 306. Photographing Point of unmiscible Liquids, 467. Haughton on Ani- on Wood for Engraving, 307. Alcohol from Lichens, malMechanics,467. WorkonEuropean Mollusca, 467. 307. Cultivation of Cmnchorma-Tree in Jamaica, 307. Simple Washin,, and Ironing Machines, 467. Fittimig Purification of Iron by Sodium, 307. German Method Candles into Sockets, 467. Cerium a Test for Strych- of refining Paraffine, 308. Antifiamine7 308. Physical nine, 467. Secret Writing, 467. Fixing Pencil or Gungraphy of North Americain the Pimocene Period, Crayon Drawings, 468. Fertilization of the Flowers 305. Fluid Alloy of Sodium and Potassium, 308. of Rhodea, 468. Sugar-cutting Machine, 465. Sub- Chinese Use of Arsenic in Agriculture, 308. Graft- stitution of Strontian, etc., for Lime in Bone, 468. ing of Part of one Animal in another, 308. Poison Poison of the Scorpion, 468. Rigidity of the Jaws Gland of an East Indian Serpent, 309. Pegging Lob- in Drowning Persons not a Sign of Death, 469. stei~ Claws, 309. New Site for the British Museum, Chloralumn, 469. Mboundon Poison, 469. Genera- vi CONTENTS. SCIENTIFIC RzooiiDCentinued. tion of Heat by Fungi, 469. Ice from the Tosselli Machine, 469. Net-work of coagulated Blood, 469. The Delhi Boil, 469. Distinguishing real from ap- parent Death, 469. Ancient Phcvmcian Sun-Dial, 470. Mode of Administering Choral, 470. Halford Method of Curing S aake-Bites, 625. Combustion of Smoke, 625. Hypodermic Injections, 625. Antiquity of Man, 626. Temperature of Insects, 626. Remains in the Caves of the Altai, 626. Homeric Iron, 627. Physiological Effects of Coffee, 627. Non-conduct- ing Handles of Tea-Pots, 627. Temperature d the Earth at different Depths, 627. Colorometric De- termination of Gold in Quartz, 628. Paper from Oat Refuse, 628. Chloride of Zinc as a Paint, 628. Iron Slag Cement, 628. The Sargasso Sea, 628. New Buildings for the British Museum, 629. Protection of Wild-Fowl, 629. Blue Color of Lake and Sea Water, 630. Progress of Natural and Physical Sci- ence in 1810, 781. Electro-Plating of Nickel, 782. Composition of the Bones in Paralytics, 782. Hal- ford Cure for Snake-Bites, 782. Origin of Civiliza- tion 782 Vaccination in Africans, 782. Shell Heaps in dew Brunswick, 782. Geographical Distribution of the Ostrich, 783. Formation of Plumbago, 783. Difference in the Blood of the European and the Bengalee, 783. Tame Codfish, 783. Formation of Clouds, 783. Frogs in New Zealand, 784. Glaciers in the White Mountains, 784. Torpedoes as Means of Defense, 784. Origin of the Phosphate Beds of South Carolina, 784. Development of Ozone by the Battery, 784. Improved Method of taking Plaster Casts, 784. Poisonous Qualities of Bromide of Po- tassium, 783. Rapid Method of Tinning, 783. Weav- ing among Lake-Dwellers, 785. Faunal Provinces of the West Coast of America, 786. Scarcity of poison- ous Serpents in Tropical America, 786. Pegging Lobsters Claws, 786. Petrel Oil, 786. Transversely striated Muscular Fibre in Mollusca, 786. Fossil Whale in Canada, 787. Value of various Antiseptics, 787. Non-amalgamable Gold, 787. Chioral in Sea- Sickness, 787. Bed of the North Atlantic, 787. Spawning of Herring, 787. Liebreichs Pepsin, 787. Destroying the Taste of Cod-liver Oil, 788. Mixture of Alkaline Salts with Plaster of Paris, 788. Bronz- ing Objects of Wood, etc 788 Dust as a Ferment, 788. Detection of Silk in~Fabrics, 788. Removal of Ink Blotches from Writing, 788. Observations on the Solar Eclipse of 1870, 933. French preserved Bread, 933. Extracting Juice from Sugar-Cane, etc., 933. Insects in Halistones, 933. Experiments with com- pressed Gun-Cotton, 933. Heating by Circulation of Petroleum, 933. Glycerine Cement 934. Acidifica- tion of Alcohol by Lycopodium, 934. Treatment of Small-Pox Subjects, 934. Physiology of Mosquito Curtains, 934. Utilizing Furnace Slag, 934. Can- nibalism in Europe, 934. Heating Cars by Sand, 934. Hard Water versus Soft, 934. Explosive Balloons, 934. Theory of Bessemer and Heaton Steel Proc. esses, 935. Thermo-Dynamic Acceleration and Re- tardation of Streams, 935. Killing Whales by Can- non, 935. Microscopic Character of Iron and Steel, 936. Dodo Pigeon, 936. Action of ice on the North American Coast, 936. Weight of Alligators, 936. The Spectroscope for testing the Purity of Water, 936. Western Tertiary Fossils 936 Gun-Cotton in Bisuiphide of Carbon, 937. lixtraction of Pepsin by Glycerine, 937. Remedy for White Ants, 931. Im- proved Photographic Processes, 931. Peculiarities of New Zealand Zoology, 938. Permanganate of Pot- ash for Colds in the Head 938 Skin-Grafting, 938. VentilatingRooms, 938. iternedy for Carbolic Acid Poisoning, 938. Hereditary Deformities, 938. Nail- nibbling Propensities of the Cockroach, 938. Spon- taneous Generation, 938. The Food of the Sea Her- ring, 939. Parthenogenesis in Diptera, 940. Mortar for Use in Damp Places, 940. Huge Fossil Algie, 940. Prevention of Sea-Sickness, 940. Prehistoric En- gravings on Bone, 940. Cleaning Paint, 94L Freez- ing Mixtures, 941. EH! WHAT IS IT? J. H. Gonnelly 763 FLORIDA REEF, ALONG THE Dr. J. B. Holder 355, 515, 706, 820 ILLUsTEATIONS. A Mangrove Swamp 355 The Sea-Devil 524 Coralilne 355 Sea-Horse Key 525 Cigar-shaped Mangrove 356 The Cracker 525 The Attack 351 Sponge-Fishing 706 Turtle-Turning 358 A Wrecker of the Reef 707 A Conch 359 The Hurricane 707 The White Egret 360 Fort Taylor, Key West 708 Pine-Appie Clearing on Key Largo 361 Cocoa Palms 709 Wreck among the Breakers 361 Date Palm 710 Indian Key, the Wreckers Rendezvous 362 Banana and Night-blooming Cereus 712 Captain Cole 363 Uncle Georges Cabin 714 Bay Buisquine 515 Contest of Crabs 716 Mouth of the Miami River 515 The Hermit at Home 717 Arrow-Root 516 The Bosn at Home 821 Sisal Hemp 516 Shark-Fishing 822 An Everglade 518 Fort Jefferson 823 White Pelican 519 Brown Sugar 825 Royal Palms 520 Kerosene BrothersMorning 826 The Live-Oak 521 Kerosene BrothersEvening 827 The Manatee 522 Fat Chariey and the Trepang 829 Brown Pelican and Sea-Gull 523 FOLK-LIFE IN SWEDEN A. H. Guernsey 162 ILLUSTRATIONS. The Forest Hut 162 The Maj-Stang 170 Sleeping Accommodations 163 Harvest-Home 171 The Jul-Pines 165 Wedding Procession 112 The Jul-Bush 167 FREDERICK THE GREAT 41, 201, 364, 557, 680, 874 ILLUSTRATIONS. Battle of Kunersdorf, Aug. 12, 1759 (Plan).. 374 Battle of Maxen, November 20, 1759 (Plan).. 378 Frederick the Great, sit. 58 557 The Winter Camp 558 Sacking the Palace 560 Battle of Leignitz, Augu8t 16, 1760 562 Battle of Torgan, November 3, 1760 566 The Kings Bivouac 681 The Empress Catherine 684 Assassination of Peter III 685 The Officer and the Curate 686 Map of the East 691 Frederick on Horseback 874 Frederick and the unjust Judges 877 Maria Theresa at her Husbands Tomb 878 The last Review 879 Frederick and his Dogs 880 The Invasion of Saxony (Map) 42 Battle of Lobositz, October 1,1756 (Plan)... 43 Battle of Pravue May 6, 1757 (Plan) 45 Battle of Kolfn, 4une 18,1757 (Plan) 46 After the Defeat 47 Sophia Dorothea 48 Campaign of Rossbach (Map) 53 Battle of Rossbach (Plan) 54 Charge of General Seidlitz at Zorndoif 201 The Leuthen Campaign (Map) 203 Battle of Leuthen, December 5, 1757 (Plan) . 204 The King in Search of Lodgings 206 Siege of Olmiitz, May 12July 2, 1758...... 209 Battle of Zorndorf, August 25, 1758 212 Frederick crossing the Oder 364 Campaign of Hochkirch (Map) 365 Battle of Hochkirch, October 14, 1758 (Plan) 367 Frederick asleep in the Hut at Oetscher.... 368 CONTENTS. vii FIRE, SONG OF (With two Illustrations) Thomas Dunn English 76 FLORA, THE SACRED Moncure D. conway 87 FRENCH ALLIES, OUR Benson J. Lossing 753 FROM MY CHILDHOODS DAY From the Ger7nan of Riickert, by S. S. 6~onant 613 GEMS, A CHAPTER ON W. II. Strobridge 223 GENOA, THE BANK OF ST. GEORGE (I1lustrated~ 0. M. Spencer 392 GLASS-BLOWING AS A FINE ART Lyman Abbott 337 ILLUSTRATIONS. Glass Vase, with Figures in Relief 337 Venetian and Clichy Glasses 344 Theban Glass-maker 338 German Wiederkommen 345 Theban Glass-makers (two illustrations) ... 338 Egyptian Mirrors 348 Bead of a royal Necklace 338 Italian Mirror (Louvre) 347 Inscription in Hieroglyphics 338 Mirror of Marie de Medici (Louvre) 348 Portland Vase 340 Venetian Glass sprinkled with Gold 349 Ancient Roman Glass-ware 341 Venetian frosted Glass (Louvre) 349 The Strasburg Vase 342 Bohemian Glass 330 Venetian Wine-Glass 343 Engraved Flagon 331 Venetian Bottle 343 Drawing out a Glass Tube 333 French Glass, Sixteenth Century 344 GULF STREAM AND THE TRADE-WINI)S, THE William L. Walker 701 GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS, WALLENSTEIN AND Eugene Lawrence 577 HARBOR DEFENSES, OUR T. B. Thorpe 612 HER HERo Annie Thomas 725 INQUISITION, DOMINIC AND THE Eugene Lawrence 731 INVEIGLING NATURE INTO A DISCLOSURE OF HER SECRETS. .Jacob Abbott 78 ILLUSTRATIONS. Fig. 1.Velocity of Light 78 Fig. 3.When the Light is not intercepted 79 Fig. 2.When the Wheel is at rest 79 Fig. 4.When the Light is intercepted 79 JOHN EASTMANS COMPENSATION Emma B. Cobb 693 LADY OF SORROW, THE ANCIENT H. 211. Alden 294 LIFE IN BRITTANY.II. BRETON PEASANTS (illustrated) George Al. Towle 30 LIGHT.See Inveigling Nature, etc. LITTLE RIFT WITHIN THE LUTE, TIlE Annie Thomas 215 LONDON, RELIGIOUS RELICS IN Moncure D. Conway 894 MADAME SIMPLES INVESTMENTS 448 MAGIC MIRROR, THE H. Al. Alden 576 MARGUERITE Kate P. Osqood 378 MATCHES Laura M. Doolittle 117 MEXICO, THE YOUNG NATURALIST IN S. S. C~onant 233 ILLUSTRATIONs. Scenery in Mexico 233 The Cavern Cemetery 237 Sumichrast 234 Lost in the Forest at Night 238 LEncuerado 234 Monkeys on a Frolic 239 M. Snmichrasts narrow Escape 235 Pursued by Peccaries 240 The Cataract 236 MONARCH OF MOUNTAINS, THE (Illustrated~ Lyman Abbott 811 MOUNTAINS, THE MONARCH OF Lyman Abbott 811 ILLUSTRATIONs. Mont Blanc, from the Mer de Glace 811 Passage of the Echelles by M. Bisson 816 Mont Blanc, seen from Mont Buet 812 Hut erected on the Grands Mulets 817 Mountains of Europe 813 Exploring the Mountain 818 Rock of the Grands Mulets 814 Catastrophe of August 20 819 Great Crevasse, Foot of Mont Blanc 815 MUMMYS FOOT, THE From the French, by Mrs. H. S. Conant 749 MY LITTLE NEWS-BOY Mrs. C. A. Meriqhi 271 NAVY-YARD, THE BROOKLYN (Illustrated) W. F. C. Shanks 1 NINETEENTH CENTURY, TILE SEVENTH DECADE OF THE C. C. Hazewell 277 NOBLER LOVE, TIlE Justin M6arthy 914 OBERAMMERGAU, THE PASSION PLAY IN, 1870 174 (ECUMENICAL CO1JNCIL. See Pio Nono and his Councilors. OLD CHRISTMAS CAROL (With an Illustrated Border) 161 ORANGE BLOSSOMS AND NIGHT-SHADE Justin MCarthy 120 OUR FRENCH ALLIES Benson J. Lossing 753 OUR HARBOR DEFENSES T. B. Thorpe 612 PARSEES, BOMBAY AND TIlE A. G. Constable 66 PASSiON PLAY IN OBERAMMERGAU, 1870, THE 174 ILLUSTRATIONS. Theatre of the Oberammergan Passion Play 174 Nathaniel.Paul Fr5scbl 182 The Crucifixion as represented 176 Rabbi.Anton Heiserer 183 Cbristus.Joseph Mair 179 Maria Magdalena.Josepha Lang 183 Joseph of Arimatbea.Thomas Eendl... 180 Johannes.Johann Zwink 184 Pllatus.Tobias Flunger 180 Petrus.Jacob Hett 185 Maria.Franziska Flunger 182 Judas.Gregor Lechner 186 viii CONTENTS. PICTURES OF IRELAND Junius Henri Brown 496 iLLUSTRATIONS. The Giants Causeway 496 The Jaunting-Car 503 Carrick-a-Rede 498 In the Gallery at the Theatre 506 Walkers Pillar, Londonderry 499 The Rist is inside, yer Honor, etc 506 Dangan Castle . ... 500 Phonla-Phouca., 508 Nelson Monument, Sackyille Street, Dublin. 501 The Gap of Dunioe 510 Monument to Daniel OConnell 502 Ross Castle, Killarney 511 PlO NONO AND HIS COUNCILORS L~yinan Abbott 14 iLLUsTRATIONS. Pope Pius the Ninth 14 Bishop Dupanloup 22 St. Peters and the Vatican 15 Archbishop Manning 22 The Pope in his Chair of State 17 Father Beckx 23 The Procession 19 Bishop Strossmayer 27 The Council Chamber 21 Reading of the Decree 29 PITCAIRN ISLANDERS, THE A. H Guernsey 653 iLLUSTRATIONS. George H. Nobbs, Pastor of Pitcairn 653 Norfolk Island 665 Chart of Part of the South Sea 656 K ingston, Norfolk Island 665 Wreck of the Pandora 659 Landing- P lace, Sidney Bay 666 On the Sandy Islet 659 Interior of Norfolk Island 667 Pilcairn Island .... 660 Naomi Nobbs, Jane Nobhs 668 Maria Christian, Ellen Quintal, Sarah MKoy 661 Pitcairu Settlement, Norfolk Island 669 Landing at Pitcairn Island 664 PORTRAITS AND MEMOIRS R. H. Home 413 PUBLIC LANDS, OUR W. B. Hooper 219 PUNCH AND JUDY, THE STORY OF With an Introduction by S. S. C~onant 830 ILLUSTRATIONS (By Geerge Cruikshenk). Portrait of Mr. Punch 830 Punch and the Doctor 840 Punchs Company on their Travels 831 The Doctor physics Punch 840 Behind the Scenes 831 Punch doctors the Doctor 841 At the festive Board 833 Punch and the foreign Footman 841 Punch and the Dog Toby 834 Punch and his Music 842 Punch and Scaramouch 834 Punch kills the Footman 843 Punch, Judy, and their Child 835 Punch pities the poor Blind 844 Punch playing with his Child 835 Punch taken Prisoner 844 Punch throws away his Child 836 Punch in Prison 845 Judy beats Punch 831 Punch teaches Jack Ketch 845 Punch quiets Judy 838 Punch visited by Old Nick 846 Punch and pretty Poll 838 Punch fights Old Nick 846 The Courtier with the elastic Neck 839 Punch kills the Devil 847 Punch on his Steed 819 Tail-Piece 848 RELIGIOUS RELICS IN LONDON Moncere D. Gonway 894 ROCK OF THE LEGION OF HONOR, THE.PART II Berthold Anerbach 55 SACRED FLORA, THE Moncere D. Conway 87 SCOTT, LIEUTENANT-GENERAL WINFIELD Thurlow Weed 594 SEED AND THE FRUIT, THE Lewis Kingsley 258 SEVENTH DECADE OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY, THE C. 6. Hazewell 277 SHADOW, THE: AFTER A BALLAD OF HEINES S. S. Conant 336 SHADOW OF CANDLEMAS NIGHT, THE Airs. Harriet Prescott Spofford 424 SIESTA Mrs. Harriet Prescott Spofford 526 SIX-AND-THIRTY From the German, by 6. 6. Shaclfard 608 SNOWED UP Katherine G. Ware 417 SONG IN GOLD, A W. S. Newell 848 SONG OF FIRE (With two Illustrations) Thomas Dunn English 76 ST. GEORGE, GENOA, THE BANK OF (Illustrated) 0. 111. Spencer 392 SWEDEN, FOLK-LIFE IN (Illustrated) A. H. Guernsey 162 THREE SHIPS, THE Julia C. B. Dorr 873 TRADE-WINDS, THE GULF STREAM AND THE Win. L. Walker 701. TREAD OF INVISIBLE FEET, THE Justin MCarthy 409 UNDER TIlE ROSE Airs. harriet Prescott Spofford 95 VIGIL, A S. S. (onant 40 VOICE OF CHRL~TMAS PAST, THE (With 18 Illustrations) Airs. Z. B. Buddington 187 WALLENSTEIN AND GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS Eugene Lawrence 577 WED IN THE MORNINGDEAD AT NIGHT 6. Welsh Mason 379, 535 ILLUSTRATIONS. The Doppelgiinger 388 Do you see it? The Amulet? There ! etc. 545 WESTOVER ESTATE, THE J. B. Chapin 801 ILLUSTRATIONS. The Old Mansion 801 The Grave-Yard 805 Chimney-Piece 802 A Virginia Waiter 807 Gate-Way in the Rear 803 Colonel Byrds Monument 888 Gate-Way 803 WHAT DID MISS DARRINGTON SEE? Emma B. Cobb 109

W. F. G. Shanks Shanks, W. F. G. The Brooklyn Navy-Yard 1

IIARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. No. CCXLVILDECE1VIBEII, 1870.VOL. XLII. THE I~ROOKLYN NAVY-YARD. COMMANDER SIMPSON, lately inspecting the broad and spacious Ordnance Dock of the Brooklyn Navy-yard, complained to the of- ficer in charge that the grass grew urElipped between the great pyramids of shot and shell, and spiders masked with their silken webs the great batteries which lay unmounted and in con- fusion about the grounds. It was not precisely in these words that the complaint was uttered, for Inspector Simpson is less poetical than practi- cal; and the presence of growing grass in a navy- yard was as grievous, in his official eyes, as would have been the absence of tar from his ships rig- ging. When he had first begun his inspection, aud was walking through the broad avenue by which one escapes from the noisy and dirty York Street of Brooklyn into the cleanliness, the quiet, and the strict discipline of the Ad- mirals Office, he had observed the offensive green things growing all around him, and had given a true naval reason for his grumbling mood. This road must be cleared of grass, he had said, or it will look as though there was no- thing doing here. It is the common error of sailors, and soldiers too, to believe that the people do not delight in their idleness. It is all a mistake to sup- pose that, because moralists generally, and po- litical economists especially, deplore the exam- ples and expense of the idle soldiers and sailors, the people also object to them. On the con- trary, they are sights the nureflecting soul de- lights in, because their idleness is the present proof of peacethe positive assurance of pros- perity. The shady spots, and the green slope Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 18T0, by Harper sari Brothers, in the Office of the Libra- nan of Congress, at Washington. Voa. XLJLNo. 241.1 MAIN AVENUE, aROONLYN NAvv-vAaD. ~il

W. F. G. Shanks Shanks, W. F. G. The Brooklyn Navy-Yard 1-14

IIARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. No. CCXLVILDECE1VIBEII, 1870.VOL. XLII. THE I~ROOKLYN NAVY-YARD. COMMANDER SIMPSON, lately inspecting the broad and spacious Ordnance Dock of the Brooklyn Navy-yard, complained to the of- ficer in charge that the grass grew urElipped between the great pyramids of shot and shell, and spiders masked with their silken webs the great batteries which lay unmounted and in con- fusion about the grounds. It was not precisely in these words that the complaint was uttered, for Inspector Simpson is less poetical than practi- cal; and the presence of growing grass in a navy- yard was as grievous, in his official eyes, as would have been the absence of tar from his ships rig- ging. When he had first begun his inspection, aud was walking through the broad avenue by which one escapes from the noisy and dirty York Street of Brooklyn into the cleanliness, the quiet, and the strict discipline of the Ad- mirals Office, he had observed the offensive green things growing all around him, and had given a true naval reason for his grumbling mood. This road must be cleared of grass, he had said, or it will look as though there was no- thing doing here. It is the common error of sailors, and soldiers too, to believe that the people do not delight in their idleness. It is all a mistake to sup- pose that, because moralists generally, and po- litical economists especially, deplore the exam- ples and expense of the idle soldiers and sailors, the people also object to them. On the con- trary, they are sights the nureflecting soul de- lights in, because their idleness is the present proof of peacethe positive assurance of pros- perity. The shady spots, and the green slope Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 18T0, by Harper sari Brothers, in the Office of the Libra- nan of Congress, at Washington. Voa. XLJLNo. 241.1 MAIN AVENUE, aROONLYN NAvv-vAaD. ~il 2 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. of the forts where no sentinels challenge, are welcome resorts; and there is a grateful quiet in the broad, high ship-house of the navy-yard, where no workmens children snatch great chips from under the edge of the swift-descending adze. The lazy fortress and the idle war-ship are emblems of peace in which the nation de- lights, after all that is said to the contrary; and, exhausted from a great struggle, the American people join heartily in the sentiment of Bu- chanan Reads prayer for peace: Oh! that some sweet bird of the South Might build in every cannons mouth, Till the only sound from its rusty throat Should be the wrens or the blue-birds note; That doves might find a safe resort In the embrasures of every fort I But the people go even further than the poet. It is not in the nature of the American people to be content with the idleness of any element of power. No sooner was our late war ended and peace declared than, as will be remembered, the people demanded that the war forces should be utilized, no.t merely re- duced. Without ceasing to love peace, or for- getting to be grateful to the soldiers and sail- ors who maintained the unity of the nation, the American people insisted that peace should not be a wholly idle season, and that the army and navy should be employed, not merely in pre- venting possible mischief; but in performing positive good. They would not wish a single veteran dismissed unwillinglytheir deep sense of gratitude prohibits that; and, in spite of all that has been said and written by partisans for political effect, there is no authenticated in stance of government neglect of its veteran soldiers and sailors. The people can not con- sent to see a single navy-yard dismantled use- lesslytheir sense of economy prohibits that; and all that has been published in the papers, all that has been said in Congress of reduction and economy, expresses simply the earnest de- sire of the people that in peace army and navy and armories and navy-yards shall be utilized. Very earnest at present is this demand with respect to the navy and the navy-yards and stations. The latest national experience has demonstrated that, though we possibly have too large a navy and too many naval stations for peace, we have too few ships and not enough dock-yards for time of war such as the nation has lately passed through. The assertion will not be disputed that, but for the then-existing navy-yards of the North, there could have been no blockade of the Southern ports completed and recognized as effective before the end of 1861. Shall a power such as this, though de- veloped by war, be destroyed in peace? It is not against our present argument to admit, as the rebels claimed at the time, that the sur- render of the extensive naval d~p6t at Norfolk, with its immense supplies of munitions of war, gave the Confederates their means of resist- ance. Better to utilize for the purposes of peace than to destroy such agencies as these. It should not be forgotten that the navy- yards of the North not only created, during the war, an entirely new navy, built on original principles of naval construction, but that they fitted more than six hundred merchant vessels to perform blockading duty as men-of-war. Is not that organization which thus converted peaceful ships of commerce into sturdy men-of- war powerful also to transform men-of-war into merchautmen? The rapidity with which the alterations of vessels for the war was effected was, at the time, the wonder and admiration of the country. Merchant ships, coming home from Southern ports, in more than one instance. returned on their regular advertised trips as ships of war. It is related that the steamer Monticello, of the Cromwell line, had been making regular trips, for mercantile purposes, from New York to the Southern ports, and in. April, 1861, was thus running between New York and Washington. It was rumored that the rebels had made preparations for its cap- ture. The Government bought the steamer, and sent it to the Brooklyn Navy-yard to be fitted out. The largest force that could work upon the vessel was employed in the work of alteration. The elegant fittings of passenger service yielded to the stern exigencies of war, and the hand-saw tore its way through silken tapestry and velvet cushions which there was no time to remove. Within forty-eight~hours from the time of purchase, and twenty-four hours from her arrival at the navy-yard, the Monticello was on her way to the Potomac, a war steamer, armed and equipped, carrying a large pivot-gun and four 32-pounders. In the darkness of the night she ascended the Poto- mac; the rebels made their attack, and the great guns roared out their reception. The Monticello reached Washington; it was never ascertained what became of the attacking party. Similar alterations of the merchant marine for warlike purposes was a chief service of the navy-yards during the war, and that, experi- ence has suggested to national economists aii idea which is only just now being impressed upon public attention, in connection with the schemes for reviving American navigation in- terests. The war which created the American navy destroyed the Anerican merchant serv- ice. Scores of merchant ~hips were then changed to men-of-war; hundreds of sea-cap- tains entered the naval service for the war; and thousands of sailors, trained to the free life and simple duties of the merchautman, volun- tarily submitted themeelves to the strict disci- pline and dangerous duty of the man-of-war. As the chief dependence of the nayy, in time of ~var, was on the merchant service, it is now proposed to rely on the navy-yards and the naval service to aid in reviving American nav- igation. The idea proposed is the employ- ment, of the national dock-yards, in time of peace, in the construction of a merchant ma- rine, which shall do service, in time of war, as a national navy. The various measures for THE BROOKLYN NAVY-YARD. reviving American navigation and reducing the American navy, which were agitated dur- ing the last session of Congress, had this result; and, as yet, no other. The plan is still mere- ly a suggestion of that debate, and, not yet hav- ing taken shape, remains to be considered in its details. Such a proposition, it is under- stood, will be introduced during the coming winter session of Congress, in a bill which will encourage the building of iron ships at Ameri- can navy-yards, and the manning of the mer- chant marine with American seamen and American naval officers. That the nation must resort to some plan like this seems indis- putable in the face of the experience of other countries. Instead of selling the national navy- yards, they should be utilized, and employed no less vigorously in arts of peace than in those of ~var. It has been by permitting her naval officers to engage in it that England has made her merchant service the finest in the world, and fitted her every sailor for instant duty as a man-of-wars man when occasion requires. Her naval stations are public ship-yards, at which merchant ships and men-of-war alike are built, and her iron ships are built alike at pri- vate and national ship-yards. It is to this re- sort we are urged by our experience and the advice of our leading officers. It seems a wiser one than that other suggestion, to sell the stations and reduce the navy, which, in an emergency, might be indispensable to national safety. Since it is simply a question of de- stroying or utilizing a great power, there can be no hesitation in choosing, and the Amen- can Congress can hardly refuse its consent if a plan shall be devised to convert our idle na- val stations into busy dock-yards, nor fail to extend every aid of legislation for the consum- mation of that desirable achievement. Ships and naval organizations, says the letter from Secretary Robeson, of May 30, to the House Committee on Naval Affairs, can not be ex- temporized like regiments, but are the growth and product of long-continued industry and skill. And this, which is true enough of ships, is pre-eminently the fact in respect to their birth-place, the navy-yard. Its growth is in- evitably slow. The dismantling of any one of those already completed is not, therefore, to be hastily resolved upon. Among the navy-yards which it has been proposed to s~ll is that at New York, common- ly but erroneously called the Brooklyn Navy- yard. Officially it is the New York Navy- yard, and is so described in the almost for- gotten parebments by which the State and city of New York transferred to the General Gov- ernment their right and title in the Waal Boght, or Fallow Bend, of the old Dutch settlers, which has since, by a curious corruption, been trans- formed into Wallabout Bay. And since Chan- cellor Kent and Robert Tillotson examined and attested the deeds, who shall doubt the correctness of the title? Its locality is one hallowed by revolutionary memories. It was in this bay that the British prison-ships were moored; and on the surrounding shores, then only salt marshes, growing with each tide that overflowed them, twelve thousand American ~ALIJTI5G BATTEaY 4 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. patriots, who had perished in that dismal con- finement of hunger and malaria, were hastily and but partially interred. Years afterward those mouldering bones were collected. with pomp and imposing ceremony, and removed to a temporary receptacle in. Jackson Street, then adjoining. There they still remain, though during more than half a century their removal to a suitable mausoleum has been from time to time agitated; and a structure was to have been erected for this purpose upon the summit of Fort Greene, now an ornamental park in Brook- hn. Very curious reasoning first directed the at- tention of the Government~ to this site as a suitahle one for a navy-yard. At least, such arguments would be thought curious enough if made in the interests of the metropolis, as at present existing. In the official correspond- ence preceding the first purchase, in April, 1801, it was announced that the selection was re- solved upon because of the desire of the Gov- ernment to bestow a proportion of its patronage on New York, and that New York might bene- fit by the employment which her citizens would receive at the proposed navy-yard. We smile at these things now; and whether the navy- yard, in an emergency, hires double or treble its usual number of laborers, or whether, upon the motion for retrenchment of the gentleman from Buncombe, or some Western Congressman who never sniffed salt-water breezes nor knows the importance of a navy, it dismisses a large number of men in a single day, there is no l)erceptible change in the vast labor market of New York city. But if this naval station were transformed into a national ship-yard, its location in the chief port, the largest and cheapest market, and the most populous city of the country, would assume an importance, aside from mere considerations of labor, not to he disregarded in the interest of commerce. Another reason for selecting this site for the navy-yard was, that it would afford a defense to the metropolis. By the terms of the sale it was distinctly stated that the site was to be used and applied to the defense and safety of said citymeaning New York. It has never been in any military sense, however, a part of the defenses of the port. A battery exists on Ordnance Dock, and its mortars, looking south, are trained to drop hot sbot or bursting shells into the Narrows and the lower bay, two miles and more seaward; but as a means of defense it would not enter largely into any tacticians calculations. It is rather a collection of relics than a formidable array of powerful mortars. Some of them did service in opening the Mis- sissippi, at Forts Jackson and St. Philip, under Porter. Others aided to make night hideous at the bombardment of Vicksburg; and still others bowled their fiery missiles at Mobile. But, situated as they are, they are as powerless to protect New York against the approach of a modern fleet as would he the handsome but ineffective guns of the Saluting Battery, which stands at the other side of the same dock, or as the dismounted monsters near by, which, in I OIWNANCE 1)00K. THE BROOKLYN NAVY-YARD. 5 siAte of their size, are objects of curiosity rather than weapons of defense in their present posi- tion. These guns, seen in the illustration of the Saluting Battery, have been named Satan, Lucifer, and Moloch. There was a fourth of the same pattern called Beelzebub; but it has since been mounted in the tower of some Moni- tor. They are the largest cannon ever cast. Each weighs forty-two tons. The diameter at the breech is nearly six feet. A man can easily trawl in and out of the muzzle, which admits a ~0-inch shell. Mounted on a trunnion, they are easily handled by experienced gunners. As a means of defense for New York city the navy-yard is, therefore, useless; and that consideration which influenced its establish- ment need not embarrass any proposition to change its character. The transfer of the water- front of Wallabout Bay was made on the con- siderations above noted, and the payment of $40,000 in money. There was a rumor to the effect that the Government had paid too much for it, whereupon one of the agents employed to purchase the site, determined not to be consid- ered a party to a fraud on the Government, of- fered to take the bargain off its hands. The water-front alone is now valued at $20,000,000. But it must not be supposed that, in case of the sale of the yard, the. Government is to profit by this advance in the value of its real estate; nor will the city of Brooklyn, of which the yard is now a part. On the contrary, the State of New York will be benefited, and it only. By the terms of the deed the transfer of the water-front to the General Government is for such time only, and so long as the same be used and applied to the defense and safety of the said city and port of New York, and no ba- ger, and revert to the people of the State of New York when not applied to the purpose afore- said. A hasty resolution of Cotigress to sell the yard would, therefore, transfer $20,000,000 of government funds to the State of New York, a proceeding to which Western Congressmen, at least, are not disposed to consent. The Brooklyn Navy - yard is approached through one of the least attractive parts of the City of Churches, and the contrast between the yard itself and the locality immediately outside its walls can not but strike an observant visitor. There is to be seen a certain naval aspect in the adjacent streets; but nothing of the clean- liness and the order of the yard is visible in the neighborhood immediately beyond its high walls. Inside, Poor Jacks fondness for the appurtenances of his calling is gratified by col- lections of old figure-heads which have gone dozens of time~ round the world, and which grace or disfigure various lawns within the yard. Outside, this love of the sailor for his vessel and its representations is traded upon by the land- sharks who prey upon his generous nature. Weatherbeaten signs over dilapidated taverns, or dusty prints in small shop windows, disclose the portraiture of red-faced navaJ,~ dignitaries, resplendent in gold lace. In front of tobacco shops the conventional figure of the Indian gra- ciously presenting, not the aboriginal pipe, but the modern rolled cigar, is superseded by that of a sailor, wit.h unlimited breadth of hat-brim and trowsers. Instead 6f popular packages of chewing tobacco, navy - plug is displayed. There are shops whose glass fronts boast of at- tractions in the shape of models of ships, with masts and rigging complete. The ordinary Dutch corner grocery announces that it keeps naval stores ; and a liquor saloon steals the great name of one who detested its traffic, and styles itself the Farragut House. There is visible in this part of Brooklyn none of those immense warehouses and magnificent dock-basins which commerce has built fri the southern part of the same city. Although there is a pier and a dry dock in the navy-yard su- perior to any like structures in this country, and the latter of which is not inferior to those of Liverpool and London, their use bas been confined solely to vessels of the navy. Mer- chant ships have been excluded from them, though pier and dock are for the most part 6 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. idle from year to year. The consequence is, that commerce has been driven from the vicin- ity of the yard. The devotion of these parts of the yard to mercantile purposes would, with- out donht, attract commercial and manufactur- ing enterprises to the city, and they would form the nucleus of a system of docks and piers and warehouses of great advantage to the metropo- lis. The pier alluded to is known as Ordnance or Cob Dock, and was completed in 1866, at a cost of $1,900,000. It is huilt on an old island in Wallabout Bay, shaped on the old maps not unlike the Mikados famous fan-shaped refuge for the Dutch apostates in Japan. It covers an area several times greater than that of any other pier in the port; hut its vast space is de- voted to the storage of shot and shell and artil- lery, instead of the rich products of industry and agriculture. The Dry Dock is an immovahle hasin of solid granite. More than ten thousand piles were driven to hear this vast mass of masonry. It nas begun in August, 1841, and was ten years in huilding, costing not less than three millions of dollars. Its bottom is at least 28 feet below the surface of the East River at high tide. When its gates are open, the dock fills with water, a vessel is floated in, the gates closed, and the water pumped out. Ingenious devices aid in accomplishing these ends. The gates, or doors, are immense structurestheir hinges alone would make several good-sized portals for ordinary dwellings. The gates are supplemented at the entrance of the dock by the most singular of all doors or porteullises, leaving a vast vestibule hetween. This outside door is an iron hunt, called a caisson or pontoon, shaped much like an axe-head, with the edge for a keel, heing 66 feet long, 16 wide, and with 30 feet depth of hold, supposing the dock to he full of water. Aft- er the vessel that is to be docked is floated in, this caisson, which contains an upper and lower compart- ment, is brought from the outside and set against the open end of the dock, ~vhich it closes, and in grooves which fit its bow and stern. Water is then let into the lower com- partment of this caisson, and it sinks so as to her- metically seal up the dock, ~vhich is then pumped out. As soon as water is re- moved from the dock, the pressure of the water of the East River upon the caisson holds it in place as firmly as though it were part of the granite walls. When the dock is to he opened, a steam - engine and pump in the upper compartment of the caisson are set to work in pumping out the water in its lower compart- ment, and the caisson, rising in its grooves, al- lows the East River to flow beneath its keel and fill the dock. The strain on the gates is thus greatly relieved, as they are only used to break the intervening movements of the water. Suc- cess in shoring a vessel properly in dock de- pends largely upon its management in giving it its first set. The dock, which contains 610,000 gallons, can be emptied within two hours and ten minutes. The whole height of its walls is 36 feet; its least depth, measured at high-water over the mitre-sills, 26 feet; and its least width, similarly measured, 66 feet. Its main chamber is 30 feet wide at bottom, and 286 feet in length; at top, 98 feet, and 307 feet long; and 52 feet can be added to its length by using the vestibule between the doors and the caisson. The growth of a navy-yard, like that of a city, can be traced by the different styles of architecture of succes~ive periods. In earlier years, continuous blocks of buildings seem to have been the rule, single structures the excep- tion, in the Brooklyn yard. First of all were old-fashioned houses, fronting as if on the street of a city, with gables at either end of the row, and looking at the present day like what a New Yorker would call a row of. tenement houses. After these, separate lofty buildings grew, hut these now seem old-fashioned, but far more pre- tentious, with vast roofs, double and hipped, reaching more than half the distance between the ridge-pole and the ground; strangest of all, they are not unfrequently built with sides slop- ing inward, as if the architects ideas were de- rived from the tent, or the Indian Wigwam. However inferior in architectural beauty, it is quite certain that these older buildings excel OLD FIOURE-nEAD. THE BROOKLYN NAVY-YARD. 7 more modern structures in the element, of strength. These are none of your balloon frame houses, said an old attachd of the yard, one George Washington Lee, who has watched its growth for more than fifty years, and who in that long period has been absent from duty think of it, oh gentlemen who represent us, ~n the intervals of holidays and excursions and pairings off, in Congress !only forty days. These are houses such as they dont build nowadays. There are beams in them, Sir, like the timbers of a seventy-four. Near the en- trance, on the left of the main avenue, and ob- structing the view of several of the most mag- nificent of the warehouses in the yard, is an odd specimen of architectnre, called the Round House, probably from the fact that it is octago- nal in form. Set in its tower is a great~clock, by which the yard is ruled, as. far as time. is concerned. Within the building is the mus- tering office, where, twice a month, the work- men receive their pay. On one semi-monthly pay-day only round sums are paid; on the other, the account is closed with fractions, if any. Even on the day when only round sums are paid, a sister of charity may be seen sitting in the hall waiting to receive alms; and it must be inferred that either the work- men bring with them some remnant of previous pay, which is very improbable, or that they con- tribute legal tenders of not the smallest denom- ination. Perhaps, however, the surest index of the architectural dates is yellow paint, Until with- in ten years at the furthest, every permanent structure in a navy-yard had to be painted with yellow ochre. But the more recent buildings are allowed to retain the natural beauty of brick and stone; and massive warehouses, elaborate- ly trimmed with hewn granite, mark an im- proved era of taste, and better adaptation in construction. There are about fifty of these immense buildings in the Brooklyn Navy-yard, each suitable for commercial or manufacturing purposes. The Brooklyn yard is considered as the chief naval entrep6t for the receipt and de- livery of the materials required at other navy- yards. At almost every hour of the day, in the busy times of the yard, vast coils of rope may be seen going in at one door, while immense chain cables are issuing from another. There is even a pepper-and-mustard building, where spices andcondiments are ground, prepared, and pack- ed for ships use.. In other buildings are stored specimens or samples of naval stores, from the latest style of the tin dipper to the newest form of explosive missile. In the store-room of the Ordnance Department may be found numerous articles, or patterns of articles, of this kind, and various illustrations of newly developed princi- ples in construction, naval warfare, and mechan- ics. There is exhibited there, for instance, a plank upon which the experiment was made, by Admiral Farragut, of shooting with a tallow candle as a projectile. It is an oak plank of at least an inch in thickness. One candle has torn a hole through the plank. Another has splint- ered it at the place of impact, but not actual- ly passing through, and pieces oftbe candle are still sticking in the clefts. The distance was BOUND HOUSE. 8 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. five paces. In the Naval Lyceum or Museum, an apartment of the Admirals Office, are nu- merous other naval curiosities which repay examination. The Lyceum was started in 1833, by prominent citizens of Brooklyn, and chartered by Congress in 1835. Chief among those who lahored for its establishment was Captain Matthew C. Perry. The honor of be- longing to it seems to have been the induce- ment for the annual subscription. Citizens sent hooks and paintings, some of which are of unquestionable value; among the latter be- ing good portraits, in oil, of several of the naval heroes of our first wars, and a series of portraits of the early Presidents of the Republic. Naval officers afterward sent many contributions. An elegant coral formation, about two and a half feet high, is designated as the Alexonia Gigan- tea, or Neptunes Cup, and was obtained in the Bay of Bengal, from a depth of sixty feet below the surface. There are models and plans of various naval structures. T~vo links of a chain are preserved, with a certificate that there were fifty-one links in all, fished out of Hud- sons River, between Fort Montgomery and West Point. The links weighed from thirty to thirty-five pounds apiece, and there can be no doubt that this massive product of Revolution- ary forges was originally stretched across the river to prevent its ascent by invaders. An ec- clesiastical chart, hung against the walls, re- minds the visitor that he is yet within the bound- aries of the City of Churches. In other buildings sails are manufactured. It must not be supposed that the mere stitching of the canvas forms the chief part of this labor. The proportioning of sails to ships, and devising their outline for each vessel, are matters requir- ing mathematical calculation and measurement, as well as the knowledge that is acquired in nautical experience or developed in practical skill; and these require large apartments or floors on which to test the calculations by dia- grams, as on a blackboard. And as every ves- sel, preparatory to a voyage, must have two or three suits of sails, their manufacture becomes an important branch of industry. Other floors are devoted to the making of patterns. Be- fore it became customary in navy-yards to build a house for laying out moulding lines by which vessels are shaped, they. were simply traced in the sand of the shore where the construction was to take place. And this was by no means in those ages of antiquity when school-boys learning to write traced their copies in tab- lets of sand, but quite within the present cen- tury. Now there is no neater exemplification of.the technical methods and scientific calcula- tion by which all ~nch works must be performed thanthe pattern-shop, with its moulding-room. Here the lines of every vessel that is constructed in the yard, and those of many that undergo ex- tensive repairs, are drawn upon the floor to the full size of the proposed vessel. These lines are taken from perhaps half a dozeif different points of view of the hull, sectional and otherwise; such as might be obtained by looking from either end, from the deck downward, from the keel upward, etc. From these geometrical lines, which thus present in accurate and flowing curves the out- DRY DOCK. ~ -~~- - ~ ~ THE BROOKLYN NAVY-YARD. 9 line of every stick of timber or frame of iron in a vessel, pat- terns are cut to cor- respond. These pat- terns, representing solid timbers, theni- selves are cut in tbin boaids, beaiing tbe same relatioa to the ship which is design- ed that a tailors pa- per pattera does to the garment it is pro- posed to cut. There are also im- mense work - shops, where the forge glows, and the steam- hammer falls on the glowing irou with a heavy thud, cutting it with wedge-shaped blades a perpendicular axis of revolution. The planes as though it were a fresh cheese under a case- of course sweep off a circular surface as the knife. It is commonly supposed that the wedges timbers pass beneath them. Such is the tough- or knives used for cutting red-hot iron are of the ness of the timber, and such the speed of the hardest steel. This is a mistake. Thehot iron planes, that a stream of fire as well as of chips that is to be cut would heat a steel knife, and flies from the outer edge of the circle, while the draw its temper before ten minutes ~vork could plane is itself iuvisible oa account of the rapid- be done. The knives are of iron, and illustrate, ity of its motion. as the experiments with the candle do, the rule The change from the use of wood to that of that sufficient momentum may force a soft sub- iron in naval structures has effected prominent stance through a hard one. In other shops the changes in the requisites of this as of every navy- timbers of a vessel undergo singular treatment yard in the country. The machines which handle in receiving the shape that fits them for their that metal are, of necessity, formidable. Hide- uses. A remarkable planing-machine handles ous monsters, mechanical ogres, stand ready these immense masses in a very easy way. The with savage jaws to bite out mouthfuls of solid planes are what in other machinery are known metal. The metal shrieks as chisels pare it as routers, and revolve with high speed in a away while sliding under the planing tools, held horizontal direction, each being suspended by down on a bed twenty or thirty feet long, where 5AIL-MAK~G. 1~EBEL TORPE~() ]3UA~L MII)CE. 10 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. it can not writhe, no matter what its agonies. Or it is twisted around by ponderous lathes, which whirl these enormous masses as lightly as if they were shillalahs at Donnybrook Fair. Some of the largest piston-heads ever turned have been required for the steam-cylinders which operate the guns in the turrets of the Mouitors. The steam in the cylinder also acts as a buffer, or, rather, constitutes a steam- cushion, that receives the recoil of the gun. The diameter of one of these piston-heads, probably intended to operate a 20-inch gun, and manufactured in the Brooklyn yard, meas- ured within a small fraction of eleven feet, and compared to but little disadvantage with the piston-head of the great caloric engine of the Ericsson, the experimental ship driven hy hot air, whereon admiring members of Congress sat in enjoyment of a strange ride, which seems destined never to be repeated. Perhaps the culmination of the growth re- quired by. the use of iron would have been in rolling plates for iron-dads. A building was constructed in the Brooklyn yard for this pur- pose, and received the title of the Iron-clad Shop. The shafting was introduced, and a variety of preparations completed, but Peace spread her ~vhite wings over the land, and the nest was never used that was to have hatched out, Minerva-like, men-of-war in full armor. Among the most perfect machines which in- genuity has devised for the economy of labor in naval construction is the derrick, of which one of the finest specimens in the world is to be seen in the Brooklyn Navy-yard. These singular structures, taller than the masts of frigates, moved and actuated by steam in performing their labors, surpass even the genii of the Ara- bian tales in the prodigious facility with which they stretch out their long arms, seize vast masses of material, lift them in air, and deposit them where required. Sometimes, however, their fingers slip. Absolute skill, only acquired by practice, is required to safely sling a ma- rine boiler or a main shaft. A heavy gun did once slip from the derrick slings in the Brook- lyn yard and fall into the hold of a vessel; it, however, happily occasioned little damage. In 1863 a 15-inch gun was carried to the same yard from a distant foundry. It was destined to form part of the armament of the United States Monitor-turreted steamer I?oaaolce. The armament of that vessel was to be the heaviest afloat. She was intended for the protection of the harbor of New York. This gun, weighing about 50,000 pounds, was lifted out of a vessel that brought it at night, and gently deposited by a derrick on the shore end of one of the docks. Next morning no gun was visible. It had sunk, carrying with it the portion of the dock on which it rested, down into the quick- sand, and was quite out of sight. The derrick was again brought into requisition. A hole was dug around the monster; it was slung again and lifted into the air. The gun, how- ever, slipped from the slings, and this time going down into the hole breech foremost, was once more lost to view. To raise it again it became necessary to sling it behind the trun- nions. So troublesome was the quicksand that u amoK. THE BROOKLYN NAVY-YARD. 11 this was only eventu- ally accomplished by sinking around it iron plates and building them into a coffer- dam, from which the sand was extracted, and at length the gun. Among the prac- tices which the navy- yards have outgrown is the old-fashioned one of huilding ships in the open air. It would seem so man- ifest an improve- ment that a struc- ture which requires months or years for completion should be built under cover, that it is quite surprising face of more than 23,000 square feet, which that ship-houses, in which ships are built may be regarded as a small Gehenna, capable preparatory to launching, should rank among of consuming 84 tons of coal per day. Hei~ recent improvements. There are several of four engines have each cylinders of nearly four these in the Brooklyn yard. Some idea of feet diameter, the stroke being a little over four their size may be inferred from the dimensions feetcalculated to give to two fifteen-feet prb- of a ship no~v in process of construction in one pellers sixty revolutions per minute, and a of thema vessel formerly known as the Kale- speed for the ship of ten and a half knots per ?flazoobefore Indian names were abolished hour. now to be called the Golossus. She is intended The only buildings in the Brooklyn yard as an iron-clad, and has two turrets in Monitor which it would be impossible to utilize for the style. Her extreme length over all is nearly purposes urged are the Marine Hospital and 350 feet; breadth, about 57; depth of hold, 19. Barracks. These are, however, in a part of it Within her vast wooden frame a truss-work remote from the water-front. The Barracks of iron, composed of long girders and cross- form one of the most attractive resorts for visit- pieces more frequent and heavier than those ors, and are built on ah elaborate plan and main- of any bridge of equal size, bolted and braced tamed at liberal cost. There is always a squad together and through her timbers, gives her an of marines drilling or pacing the green before indescribable appearance of absolute and per- their otherwise desolate-looking domicile. The manent strength. She contains a vast venti- United States Naval Hospital is near by. It is lating apparatus, which is itself a curiosity, a splendid building in the Doric style of archi- and six steam-boilers, each more than twenty tecture, surrounded by the heavy foliage of feet across the face. There are six furnaces full-grown trees. Beside the lung corridors, to each boiler36 in all, giving a heating sur- which 230 feet of frontage and 125 feet depth MARINE HOSPITAL. MARINE BARRACKS. 12 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. provide, are arranged rooms for one hundred invalids. There is accommodation, however, for twice that number; and during the war the space between the wings of the building was filled by a temporary structure, and several hundred pa- ti~nts were admitted. The sick of the navy from all parts of the world are sent to this hos- pital; for, although there are many other naval hospitals, the rule is to transfer the sick of the navy when in foreign ports, to any United States vessel going home, and they are sent to the hospital of whatever yard or station the vessel is ordered to. It happens that in many cases there would be too long delay, for the welfare of the patient, in waiting for such a vessel, and he is sent by the quickest lines of travel, which inevitably bring him to New York, and therefore to this hospital. Visitors to the Brooklyn yard will find many curious objects, other than those named, to in- terest and attract them. Emerging from the Ad- rairals Office, where it is first of all necessary to go to obtain passes, trophies are seen on every side. At every corner of the numerous streets of the yard there is a great gun, planted with the breech in the ground and a ball two or three sizes too large, so that it can by no possibility enter the bore, stuffed part way into the muzzle. At the doors of the AdmiraVs Of- fice are guns captured during the Mexican war, some of which, of brass, undoubtedly contain a percentage of the precious metals. One of these, captured at San Juan de Ulloa, is a 30- pounder, and is covered with ornamental en- graving. Various inscriptions are interspersed. Its title is Le Robuste, which its appearance does not belie. The motto Ultirna Ratio Requm (The last resort of kings), twits upon facts aft& a manner akin to sarcasm. Nec pluribus i7npar (Not an unequal match for numbers) did not apply at the time of its capture. There are names, titles, and a date upon it, as follows: Louis Charles de Bour- bon, Comte DEu, Duc DAumale, and A Douny par Bereuger, Commissaire des Fontes, 67Brs., 1755. Near by is a gun which is all that remains of the ill-fated United States war steamer Oneida. It was taken off that vessel just be- fore she sailed on her last cruise. She was originally built in the Brooklyn yard, being one of twenty-three vessels entirely con- structed there during the war. This gun, an 11-inch, passed through all the great actions on the Mis- ____ _________ sissippi, and bears the marks of several engagements during which it was struck by the missiles of the en- emy. The heaviest blow by which it was in- dented was received in Mobile Bay during the passage of the forts from a shot fired by the rebel ram Tennessee. Perched up in a dock, not far from this gun of the Oneida, are now lying the bones of the famous old Hartford, which led in the famous battle in the bay. After she was sent to the Brooklyn yard some improvement was contemplated in her. Her wales were removed, exposing her to top-tim- bers like the ribs of some vast fossil skeleton. Then the appropriation was stopped, and the work was suspended. Several torpedo - boats, among others the Midqe, captured in Charleston Harbor, are scat- tered about the yard, and are objects of great interest. The importance of the torpedo in modern marine warfare is only beginning to be appreciated. Attention has been called to it in a recent letter from the Secretary of the Navy. After the war was over, as well as during its pendency, the obstructions in most of the Southern rivers had to be cleared and blown up by means of torpedoes; in fact, when the existence of torpedoes among the obstruc- tions was suspected, torpedoes were the only safe things to attack them with, as though one should fight fire with fire. The Northern ves- sels used for dicharging torpedoes are not so gracefully constrdcted as those built at the South. A torpedo-boat of New Bedford con- struction, preserved in the Brooklyn yard, looks about as beautiful in outline as a stiff, dead lamprey-eel, except that a smoke-stack stuck in it, like a pin in an insect, gives it a some- what different effect at first sight. But each and all of these torpedo-boats impress the be- holder with the belief that size is not the true test of force. Massive iron-dads as well as mighty frigates are not invulnerable when at- tacked by these enemies, whose proportions arc to theirs like those of a wasp to an elephant, but carrying a more fatal sting. The receiving-ship of every navy-yard I al -I \// .7 ________ ____ -4 A HELlO OF THE ONEIDA. THE BROOKLYN NAVY-YARD. 13 ways attractive, for it is the residence of the sailors. The Vermont is the present receiving- ship, which is anchored off the navy-yard at Brooklyn. The first receiving-ship employed in the United States Navy was built at the Brooklyn Navy-yard. It was an immense steam float- ing battery, called Fulton the First. While fastened to the dock as a receiving-ship, on the morning of the 4th of June, 1829, the magazine on board exploded. Thirty-three persons were killed and a large number wounded. Among the killed was the commander, Lieutenant Breckinridge. The vessel sank at the dock. The ship which succeeded to the unfortunate Fulton, the North Coroiina, became, we had al- most said, a landmark, and it was popularly be- lieved that she was aground; at all events, she was a fixture associated with the early memo- ties of the people of Brooklyn. There was a school for naval apprentices on board. The vessel had been launched after the war with Great Britain, and, before being thus stationed, had made cruises to the Mediterranean and Pacific. During the rebellion she was sold at puhlic auction, and probably at a mere tithe of her original cost, as no purchaser could have had any use for her except as so much wood, iron, and copper, for which she was hroken up. What has heen said of the Brooklyn Navy- yard applies, in almost every particular, to the other seven yards and six stations of the country. The yards are at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, Boston, Philadelphia, Washington, Norfolk, Pensacola, and Mare Island, California; the stations are at Annapolis, League Island, Sack- etts Harbor, New London, New Orleans, and Mound City, Illinois. The number of men em- ployed at these is now about the same as just be- fore the breaking out of the rebellion. The number which may be employed if a national scheme for reviving American shipping is de- vised can be imagined by the statistics which have been preserved of the operation during the war of the Brooklyn Navy-yard. In 1860 there were about 120Q men, and there was paid in all about $200,000 during the year. In 1861 the largest number was ahout 3700, and the total years payments were about $680,000. In 1862 the corresponding figures were 4800 men, and $2,000,000; in 1863, 5000 men, and nearly $3,000,000; in 1864, 5900 men, and $3,750,000; in 1865, 6200 men, and $4,000,000; the culmination being in August, 1865, when the payments for that month were a little above $400,000. The great difficulty to be encountered in the effort to restore American shipping, it is evi- dent, will not be the lack of materials, work- shops, and workmen. It remains for states- manship to devise a policy which will give them use and employment. aJ~caLvmJNu-aaw VSaMoar. 14 IIARPEliS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. PlO NONO AND HIS COUNCILORS. THE eighth day of December, 1869, will long be remembered by every devout and faith- fiil Romanist not only as a d~iy sacred to the Immaculate Conception of Mary, Mother of God, but also as that on which the ~iEcumen- ical Council, convened by Pope Pius IX., met in the Eternal City, to receive his benediction, and, by appropriate public ceremonies, to in- augurate its labors for the purification of the faith, the overthrow of heresy, and the humili- ation and defeat of that arch-destroyer of man- kind the human reason. The ceremonials which characterized this birthday of the worlds millennium were not unworthy the high and beatific occasion. The skies were not propitious, but this did not check the enthusiasm of the thousands of pilgrims who had assembled from all quarters of the globe to witness the opening of the Council, and to pii~k up the crumbs of papal benediction that fell from the table of bishops and cardinals. Long before dawn the ringing of bells and booming of cannon announced the approaching festival. With no other light than was afforded by the not over-brilliant street lamps of the city, hundreds were already hur- rying on foot and in carriages to the great temple, now, for the first time since its erec- tion, to be really filled. At eight oclock it was thronged. At nine it was crowded. Ninety thousand people, says an eye-witness, were gathered beneath its roof. The press was fearful. Strou~ men fainted and were carried out to give their places to others inure resolute I

Lyman Abbott Abbott, Lyman Pio Nono and His Councilors 14-30

14 IIARPEliS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. PlO NONO AND HIS COUNCILORS. THE eighth day of December, 1869, will long be remembered by every devout and faith- fiil Romanist not only as a d~iy sacred to the Immaculate Conception of Mary, Mother of God, but also as that on which the ~iEcumen- ical Council, convened by Pope Pius IX., met in the Eternal City, to receive his benediction, and, by appropriate public ceremonies, to in- augurate its labors for the purification of the faith, the overthrow of heresy, and the humili- ation and defeat of that arch-destroyer of man- kind the human reason. The ceremonials which characterized this birthday of the worlds millennium were not unworthy the high and beatific occasion. The skies were not propitious, but this did not check the enthusiasm of the thousands of pilgrims who had assembled from all quarters of the globe to witness the opening of the Council, and to pii~k up the crumbs of papal benediction that fell from the table of bishops and cardinals. Long before dawn the ringing of bells and booming of cannon announced the approaching festival. With no other light than was afforded by the not over-brilliant street lamps of the city, hundreds were already hur- rying on foot and in carriages to the great temple, now, for the first time since its erec- tion, to be really filled. At eight oclock it was thronged. At nine it was crowded. Ninety thousand people, says an eye-witness, were gathered beneath its roof. The press was fearful. Strou~ men fainted and were carried out to give their places to others inure resolute I PIG NONO AND HIS COUNCILORS. 15 16 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. or more audacious. It was a motley crowd. The Holy Mother Church knows no aristoc- racy but her own. Rich and poor meet to- gether on a common level before her altar. A gallery in the council chamber had been pre- pared for crowned heads. The beautiful Queen of Wiirtemberg, the Empress of Austria, the ex-Qucen of Naples, and the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess of Tuscany were among its oc- cupants. A second gallery afforded accom- modation for the various embassadors to the Court of Rome.. The remainder of the vast assembly depended on luck, skill, strength, or a well-administered .bribe for the privilege of witnessing the august ceremonies of inaugura- tion, or the more doubtful privilege of hearing little and seeing less, but of subsequently being able to say, I was at the opening of the (Ecu- menical CounciL Priest and layman, noble and peasant, men and women of all nationali- ties, faiths, and races, met in a common assem- blage. Here, grouped together, was a com- pany of barefooted and barelegged friars, whose rubicund visages testified to their good living, nnd whose muscular limbs witnessed to their vigorous health. A little apart from these a baud of monks was gathered, clad from head to foot in solemn black, motionless as statues, their bright, sharp eyes shining through the orifices cut in the black hoods which complete- ly enveloped their heads. Side by side stood the jeweled dame and the beggar woman in her tattered rags. Within a square yard, in the buzz of voices, you might hear French, English, German, Spanish, Italian, and Armenian. De- vout spectators were reminded of the feast of Pentecost; scoffers, of the Tower of Babel. Th~ council chamber had been fitted .up for the Council in the north transept of the great Cathedral of St. Peters. This room itself would make a magnificent church. It is two hundred feet in length, a hundred wide, and a hundred and fifty high. It would be difficult tofind a room of tolerable size in the civilized world less adapted to discussion. It would be impossible to find one better adapted to scenic display. No pains or expense had been spared in rendering the allotted portion of the great ca- thedral worthy of the august assemblage which was to occupy it. Enough was spent in furni- ture and decoration to erect a magnificent tem~- ple. The expense was estimated at not far from $120,000 in gold. A high tapestried partition separated the holy of holies from the outer courts. Great doors in the centre were provided, which, being thrown open, would afford the public a view of the, fathers in coun- cil during their occasional public sessions. Above the entrance on the outer side was a striking representation of Christ throned in glory, the. open Gospels in one hand, the other raised in the act of benediction. On the doors were inscribed, in Latin, his last words, Go ye and teach all nations; and behold I am with you all days even to the end of the world. On the inside was a representation of the Im- maculate Conception, with another inscription to him who alone has destroyed all heresies. At the other end of the council hall, on a mag- nificent throne, flanked by the seats of the car- dinals, was the seat of the successor of the fish- erman saint of the Sea of Galilee. Behind and over his throne a large painting hung, repre- senting the descent of the Holy Spirit at Pente- cost. Other paintings, of the Apostolic Council at Jerusalem, of the councils of Nice, Ephesus, and Tient, of the chief doctors of the church, and of the popes who have presided at General Councils, served to remind the holy fathers that in all their work they were surrounded by a cloud of heavenly as well as by a throng of earthly witnesses. Between the entrance doors and the papal throne stood the altar and the pulpit, the latter upon wheels; while rising on either side, tier above tier, were the seats of the bishops, looking down upon the lowlier places, just in front of them, assigned to the short- hand reporters and various other subordinate officials of the Council. The floor was covered with a magnificent carpet, a royal present from the King of Prussia; and the architectural splen- dor of a hall which the art treasures of Italy combine to render without an equal in the world was enhanced by the antique tapestries, and splendid crimson and scarlet and green drap- ings which covered the seats prepared for the ecclesiastics. The opening had been fixed for half past eight oclock in the morning, but it was half past nine before the booming of a cannon an- nounced the approach of the ecclesiastical pro- cession. The hum of the vast audience is hushed. A solemn expectancy pervades the whole assembly. The least devout catch ~for the moment the spirit of the great congregation, and feel that subtle influence which so magical- ly charms the imagination and sways the heart, without affecting the judgment. A ~solemn chant, Veni Creator, is heard rising and falling in sweet cadences from a concealed choir. The holy procession has entered the precincts of the church~ It advances up the aisle between the long ranks of soldiers who keep back the hushed and breathless throng. The chaplains and chamberlains and other subordinate officials lead the way. The abb~s and bishops and archbishops follow; then, in th~ order of their rank, the primates and patriarchs and cardi- nals. These precede the holy father, who is borne in a chair of state, like thai in which ediles and senators were borne during the Ro- man republic. A golden crucifix is carried be- fore him, the gift of the Marqu.is of Bute, who is the original, if report be true, of Disraelis Lothair. Prelates, prothonotaries, generals of orders, and subordinate officials bring up the rear. Each official stops for a moment to kneel in reverence before the high altar where the sacrament is exposed. From the pope down to the stenographers this act of worship is observed by alL PLO NONO AND HIS COUNCILORS. 17 It is doubtful whether the world has ever witnessed an array of more splendid vestments. Neither the Qneen of Sheba, says a lady correspondent, nor Solomon in all his glory was ever arrayed like one of these. There were trailing robes of creamy satin, rich with gold embroidery; stoles gleaming with precious stones; hoods, capes, palliums, all of brilliant lustre, or of lace delicate as the web of the gos- samer; and palliums and jupes of yellow satin, bordered with ermine, and of silver tissue, whereon the daintiest flowers of spring spark- led. The dress of the Eastern bishops was VOL. XLII.No. 247. 2 singularly richof Tyrian purple, wrought with gold and precious stones; while in their tur- bans the diamonds, catching the light of many candles, flashed and sparkled like shivers of the rainbow. Then the cardinals, in their bright scarlet palliums fringed with goldtheir capes and hoods all of the same brilliant hueformed, indeed, a beautiful contrast in this magnificent pageant. Last of all, chiefest of all, was the holy father, his dress entirely of white and gold; the jupe of heavy satin, wrought to the knees with wreaths of roses done in gold; pal- hum, stole, cape, all of white satin, and gleam- THE POPE IN HIS CHAIR OF STATE. 18 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ing at the breast with diamonds and other jew- els; and his mitre, of cloth of gold, upon his head. And yet it was ~sot the magnificent display of brilliant hues, oY~crimson and scarlet, of yel- low and purple, of gold and silver and precious stones, which for the moment affected the most skeptical with a certain sense of awe. These seven hundred prelates represented nearly two hundred millions of believers; represented, too, a church sacred for the sake of its past history, if not for its present service to mankind. They came out of every land, and spoke in almost every known tongue. Coptic, Persian, Greek, Syriac, Spanish, Portuguese, Hungarian, Ger- man, French, Norwegian, Italian, English, were all represented in this assemblage. Men were here who held princely estates in France and Germany, and men who came from far-off mis- sion stations, and who, in vows of poverty, vol- untarily taken, had consecrated their all to the mother church; men who walked before kings, their equal in wealth, their superior in position and authority, and men from the democracy of America, the spiritual rulers but the political equals of their congregations; men learned in all the lore of the church, learned in the an- cient languages and in the modern sciences, and men who knew only their mother-tongue; and hardly that accurately; men ripe with all the culture of Europe, and men educated amidst the ruder but simpler civilization of Armenia and Nestoria; men who were born to rule, and men who were born to obsequious submission; men with faces obese, stupid, meaninglessnot many such; men with faces Whose sharp eyes and astute expression spoke their cunning; men open-eyed and large-browed, royal in in- tellectual strength; men of ingenuous counte- nance, the motto of whose life was unmistaka- bly written in their faces speaking the truth in love ; mena fewthe fire of whose youth still gleamed in the undimmed lustre of their eyes, and gave elasticity to their vigorous step; men, for the most part, whose age approximated infirmity, and whose silvery locks were their chietest ornament. Some were over eighty; many had passed seventy; there were but few under sixty. Such are the impressions which this costly and magnificent pageantry produced on the minds of the spectators. No other po- tentate in christendom could have assembled such a body. No other potentate could have provided them with so magnificent a reception. Scenic effects are a study in Rome. Art in the Holy City is still subordinate to the church, but it is high art no longer. It has buried in the tomb of the past the glories of Raphael and Michael Angelo; it has substituted that of the dccorator and the posturer. But in deco~a- tion and posturing it is nearly infallible. The inauguration of the ~iEcumenical Council was, in truth, a grand and successful religious tab- leau. The open portal in the tapestried parti- tion served the purpose of a magnificent frame. The Council itself seemed to the spectators without like a living picture more like some half-dimmed illumination in an old painted missal than reality. The obscure daylight and curious atmosphere, created by the wax-light, added to the illusion. The music, now a single voice, that of the pope, strong in age, though tremulous, chanting in mellifluous tones, now a great chorus of seven hundred voices swelling the response, and now the great con- gregation of ninety thousand joining in the deep Amen, rendered the grandest scenic serv- ice of the century, also the grandest in its musical effects. And when, one after another, priest, bishop, archbishop, primate, patriarch, and cardinal, approaching in turn, kneeled be- fore the vicegerent of God to kiss his foot, his knee, or his hand, and receive his benediction, something more than the mere ~sthetic effect of their glittering robes moving to and fro was visible, or rather, let us say, was felt. A sym- pathetic sentiment of reverence, amounting al- most to adoration, thrilled the spectatorsan emotion which it needed the clear light of day and the bnstle of busy life without to dissipate, even from the hearts of those who had least faith in hero-worship, and least inclination to make Pius IX.. their hero, if to hero-worship they had been ever so much inclined. Yet beneath all this grand display were hid- den the germs of bitter contr2versies, yet to grow, perhaps, into world-wide conflicts. From the day of the organization of the Jesuit order obedience has been its avowed watch-word. Its founder, a chivalric son of Spain, and by inheritance and native passion a natural member of its military order, carried into the religious society which he instituted the same despotic sway which makes every private soldier a machine, and the same chiv- alric devotion to his new mistress, the church, which incited the chivalry of his native land always to resent with relentless indignation any slight cast upon their chosen queens. For over three centuries the order which he estab- lished has been striving to secure the absolute supremacy in the Roman Catholic Church. In its crusades, not only against the liberties of mankind, but against those of the church it has professed to serve, it has met with varying success. At one time almost absolute master of Europe, it so abused the power it possessed that it was successively cast out of almost every European state by royal or legislative decree; until, finally, near the close of the last century, it was abolished altogether by the bull of Clem- ent XIV. Such an institution is not, however, easily destroyed. In its misery it won upon the sympathies even of those who had least re- gard for its principles and methods. In less than half a century from the decree of the in- fallible pope who aho~ished the oraer another infallible pope reinstated it. From that day to this the spirit of Loyola has been striving to recover its lost position. The battle has been a hard one. Its history, even the decrees of the pope it professed to re PIG KONG AND HIS COUNCILORS. 19 9 0 20 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. vere, have been against it. If Loyola had followers, so had Pasehal; and, truth to tell, the age, even in the Roman Catholic Church, was more prolific of Paschals than of Loyolas. France refused to bow its neck to the yoke of bondage; so did Germany; so did much of Roman Catholic England and America; so, for the most part, did the Roman Catholic Church in the Orient; so even did a minority in eman- cipated Spain, and emancipated Italy; so, for a while, did the pope himself. Its first step in regaining its ancient prestige and power was to secure the pope. This has been done. Pius IX., who commenced his of- ficial career as a liberal, and whose charitable nature and sympathies wonld still incline him to the side of liberalism, did not a religious self-conceit, persistently and for a purpose fos- 0 tered till it has become a fanaticism, drown their voice, has become the obedient instrument of the order which he fondly imagines he con- trols. The second step was to secure a decree from an (Ecumenical Council declaring, as a new dogma, to which all the faithful shall hence- forth assent, the personal infallibility of the pope of Rome. The spirit of Loyola found the spirit of the age too strong for it. It could not directly control the church, but it could rule the pope. It only remained to make the pope ruler of the church. The ambition of Jesuitism was the first ele- ment, the dominant element in the (Ecumenical Council; the second was the ambition of Italy. Since the days of the C~esars Italy has not lost her ambition to he mistress of the world. The position which the arms of the Goths and the Vandals wrested from her she recovered by cunning. Brute force proved no match for astuteness; and, till the Reformation, every government was, with occasional exceptions, the obedient vassal of the Bishop of Rome. But astuteness proved no match for the grow- ing intelligence of mankind. The church itself felt the effect of a reformation which was real- ly a revolution; and in France, in Hungary, in Germany, in England, and even finally in Spain, there were an increasing number of Catholic divines, whose orthodox fidelity no one dared dispute, but who no longer bowed the knee be- fore the Italian idol, or offered up incense at the Italian altar. They believed in the Holy Catho- lic Church, but not in *e Church of Rome; in the Holy Catholic Church, but in a church in which the Frenchman, German, Hungarian, and Anglican were the brethren, not the servants of the Italian. Thus there grew up simultaneously a double rebellion in the churcha rebellion by the emancipated intellect against the Jesuitical su- premacy, a rebellion by genuine piety and its twin-brother patriotism against Italian control. Concerning the first the governments of Europe were supremely indifferent. There was not a government in Europe which was not glad to foster the second. Those prelates who, living in Northern Europe, held their duty to their own government subject to the behests of Rome were called Ultramontanes, because their alle- giance was beyond the mountains. Their op- ponents, never until now crystallized into one party, have been known by the names of their respective nationalities, as Anglican or Gallican or German Catholics, or sometimes by the more general term of liberals. These were the two parties who, on the 8th day of December, 1869, gathering beneath the dome of St. Peters Cathedral, appeared to unite their hearts and voices in devout responses, and vied with each other in the seeming reverence which they paid to the supreme pontiff, whom the one party purposed to use, and whom the other party purposed to defeat. These parties were far from evenly divided. If the (Ecumenical Council had been a rep- resentative assembly it is scarcely doubtful that the liberal, or at least the anti-Italian party, would have had a considerable majority. But the Holy Mother Church does not preserve the reality of republicanism even when she appears to employ its forms. A bishop is a bishop wheth- er he represents a diocese containing a million souls or one containing a thousand, or whether he represents none at all. It is clear that to leave all unbelievers without a shepherd would be inconsistent with that charity which has al- ways characterized the founders of the Inquisi- tion and the preachers of the gospel according to St. Bartholomew. His holiness the pope is pleased, therefore, to appoint a certain consid- erable number of bishops, in partibus injideliurn, who, for the most part, reside in the city of Rome, probably for the reason that there are no unbelievers there. Thus the Papal States, with a Roman Catholic population of three- quarters of a million, had one hundred and forty-three votes in the Council (which, in the aggregate, numbered seven hundred and sixty- four delegates), a representation three times that which belonged to all Austria, with a Ro- man Catholic population of twenty-two mill- ions, and nearly twice that of France, with a Roman Catholic population of thirty-eight mill- ions. Italy is almost wholly ultramontane. Italy, with a population of twenty-seven mill- ions, was represented by two hundred and seventy-six votes, while France and Germany combined, with a Roman Catholic population nearly if not quite double that of Italy, had con- siderably less than half its number of represent- atives.* American bishops are, with a com- paratively few exceptions, ultramontane. The American Catholics, eight millions in number, were supposed to enjoy so much more of Gods special favor than the twenty-two millions of The figures are as follows: Population. Austria (including Hungary). 22,000,000 France 38,000,000 Germany 12 000 000 Great Britain 6,000,000 Papal States 100,000 Rest of Italy 26,000,000 United States 8,000,000 Repreoeot- ativeo. 48 84 19 36 143 133 49 PIG NONO AND HIS COUNCILORS. 21 Austrian Catholics, whose bishops are anti-IRo- hers. Bnt in that Conncil nunibers and learn- man, that in the Council, as interpreters of the ing were combined on the one side, political Divine will, they counted for just as much. misrepresentation overweighted them upon the In so solemn and momentous a congreg~ftion other. China, whose half-heathen parishes di- as the Ecumenical Council it might he thc~ght vide their worship about equally between the that learning and piety should ontweigh num- Virgin Mary and the god Josh, spake the will THE couacia CHAMBEE. 22 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. of God by the voice of fifteen missionary bish- ops, all creatures of the pope and devoted to his will. Germany contributed the most learn- ed, France the most acute and versatile, intel- lects to the Council. And France and Ger- many, with one-quarter of the Roman Catho- lic population of the globe, and its chief learn- ing, were represented in the Council by less than one-seventh of its members. Among the Ital- ian representatives of the Jesuit order there were multitudes who could read no other language than their own and the cognate Latin. It was one of these fathers who maintained the infal- lible accuracy of the Roman Catholic pictures of the ascension, by asserting that Jesus Christ not only wore the vestments of the Roman Cath- olic Church when he taught in Palestine, but that he continued to be clad in them in the kingdom of his glory, sitting at the right hand of God the Father. Ignorant of science, igno- rant of history, ignorant of the affairs which are going on in the outer world, not only like the Bourbons incapable of learning, but holding, unlike the Bourbons, as a positive article of faith, that learning is a mortal sin, the Ital- ian theologians, monks of the Middle Ages, real- ly belonging in the sixteenth century, though tossed by an inscrutable Providence into the middle. of the nineteenth, are not even acquaint- ed with the lore of their own church; can not, for the most part, read their Testament, nor yet the comments of the Greek fathers and the decrees of the Greek councils, in the original tongue. These men, of whom it has been said, If the pope ordered them to believe and teach~ four instead of three persons in the Trinity, they would obey; these men who have learned in all their life but one lessonobedience; these men, creatures of the rope and subservient to his will, ecclesiastics without piety, theologians without learning, bishops without a chargecon- stituted the balance of power in the Council of the Vatican, and ruled it at their will. A sin- gle one of these subservient monks neutralized the vote, the voice, the learning of a Dupan loup with his cure of a million and ?~ half of souls. Surely this was a new application of the Pauline principle, God bath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God bath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things that are mighty; and base things, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and which are not, to bring to naught things that are. Yet let us not do the Jesuit fathers an injus- tice. They select their leaders as sagaciously as their rank and file. The latter are soldiers that is, machjnes. The former are subor- dinate generals. They include some men of astute intelligence, a few of real learning; some honest men, blinded by superstitious piety; a few blinded by ecclesiastical ambition. Prom- inent among the latter was the leader of the infallibilist party, Archbishop Manning. Dr. Manning, the son of William Manning, M.P., was born in London in 1810, and took his degree at Oxford in 1830. Entering public life at the time when the Tractarian movement was giving prominence to the names of Henry Newman, Dr. Pusey, Isaac Wilberforce, and E. S. Ffoulkes, he acquired, by his public sermons against the claims of the papacy, a position in the Church of England which paved the way for his speedy promotion, when, in 1851, he left the church of his fathers for that of Rome. Mar- ried to Miss Wilberforce, sister of the Bishop of Winchester and daughter of the great philan- thropist, he attested the sincerity of his convic- tions by abandoning his wife, who still clings to the communion of the Church of England, and whom, not~vithstanding the decree of divorce which complaisant Rome has ~6vided, he still continues periodically to visit. Ilis. face and figure interpret the man. His form is slender, his frame fragile, his forehead high, his pale and intellectual but fieshless face that of a profound student, his air and manner that of an English gentleman of unmistakable culture and high breeding; but the latent fire in his eyes speaks the ambition which Roine never quenches, but knows so well how to use~ The friend and * AaeaaIsaor MANNING. PIG NONO AND HIS COUNCILORS. companion of Gladstone, having ready access to the very highest English society, knowing it ~vell and knowing how to act upon it, a ritual- ist and an ascetic by nature, possessing that peculiar quality of pride which commands rev- erence from subordinates, but which delights scarcely less to pay deference to superiors, Dr. Manning is, of all Englishmen, the man for an Anglico-iRoman archbishop; and virtue will as- suredly not have its just reward if his devotion to the pope and his unqnalified advocacy of ab- solute papal supremacy are not crowned with the object of his ambitiona cardinals hat. If the two parties into which the Council was divided were unequal in size, they were yet more unequal in that strength which comes from positive conviction, defin~ite purpose, and moral courage. The Jesuitical faction was well organized. It had recognized leaders. It had a definite aim. The Jesuits, who called the Council, called it for a definite purpose the promulgation of papal infallibility. That purpose they were determined to accomplish, at whatever cost. It might create a schism in Fiance, a schism in Germany. For that result they were not unprepared. It was better to rule over a united church than to be a minori- ty in a divided one. All their energies were ~vell ordered by a single powerful executive ~vill. It is not the pope who is the supreme 1)oniiff, but the black pope, as even among good Catholics he is called. It is not Pius IX. ~vlmo is infallible; it is Father Beckx, the head of the order of the Jesuits. The anti-infallihil- ists, on the other hand, were divided in senti- meat, vacillating in purpose, timid in action. Some were genuine liberals; others, bitter ob- structionists, opposed the progress of the age, hut, astute politicians, opposed yet more bitter- ly the supremacy of Italy in the councils of Eu- rope. A few courageous spirits denounced the doctrine of papal infallibility as false. The greater number, acknowledging its truth, feebly doubted the expediency of declaring it.* To them the Jesuit fathers replied that it was al- ways expedient to declare the truth. A little over five hundred resolute, determ- ined, united sons of the church, pledged to papal supremacy; a little less than two hun- dred halting, irresolute, uncertain, divided ec- clesiastics of various opinions, of timid and con- flicting purposes, united only in deprecating the imposition on the church of any heavier bur- densthese were the elements which mingled in the ~QEcumenical Council. The infallibilists had a clear majority. But majorities are not enough. No council had ever been known to utter a decree binding on the entire church with any thing less than al- most absolute unanimity. It was necessary to reduce the minority of two hundred to a mini- * See Cardinal Itansehers protest, for example: It can not be opportune to exact of the Catholic nations, already exposed to so much seduction and temptation, heavier duties than were enjoined on them by the Council of Trent. mum. It was necessary to prevent dehate, with all its possibilities of schism. It was nec- essarv to exclude from the eyes and ears of the world every thing but the final utterance of the Council when threat, bribe, and flattery had re- duced theopposition to a feeble non placet. It was necessary to maintain, in a word, before the faithful that appearance of unanimity which is the strength of the papal church, the absence of which is the almost fatal weakness of Prot- est.antism. The Jesuit fathers contrived ad- mirahly the preparations for their campaign. A Protestant mind would naturally imagine that a council composed of the highest digni- taries of the Roman Catholic Church, assemn- bled to sit in judgment on the most profound problems in human philosophy and theology, and to declare oracularly the truth of God to their reverential congregations, would be at least competent to frame the rules for its own organization, to elect its own officers, and to determine for itself the suhjects upon which the universal church needs enlightenment. But this only shows the perversity of the Protest- ant mind. The pope met the Council at the outset by the proclamation of a programme in accordance with which all their proceedings were to be controlled. The extreme courtesy of the holy fathcr to the beloved and venerahle fathers led to a de- gree of circumlocution in statement which our limited space forbids us to emulate. Stripped of all verbiage his allocution read substantially as follows: I, Pope Pius IX., alone have a right to sug- gest topics for the deliberation of this Council. You may offer them also so long as you offer nothing I do not like. You must reduce all propositions to writing. You must submit them to a committee of cardinals and fathers which I have appointed. They will examine and sub- mit them to me. Whatsoever passes our double scrutiny can come before the Council, nothing ~lse. There must be no discussion. To pre- vent it the Council must elect, by secret ballot, 23 FATHzR ISECKX. a HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. four committees. They will take cognizance respectively of matters of faith, of ecclesiastical discipline, of the affairs of the regular orders, and of Oriental rites. If any discussion is pro- voked, the matter shall be reported to its ap- propriate committee and put into shape there. If any father wants to speak he shall give tWen- ty-four hours notice of his intention. Fathers shall speak in the order of their dignity. You shall take oath not to disclose the proceedings in the council chamber till they are officially promulgated. And, finally, I mean to see these rules carried out, and have appointed five car- dinals who will preside in turn at all your ses- sions. So, in effect, though in phraseology much more voluminous, the most holy father to the council of beloved and reverend fathers greet- ing. Surely the sun has never looked down upon a nominally free assembly more thorough- ly under the control of a single man than the council which assembled beneath the dome of St. Peters under the delusion that to it was intrusted the solemn duty of debating and ad- judging any thing whatsoever. There were men in this councilmen of im- measurably stronger intellect and riper scholar- ship than the pope or any of his Italian ad- visers. They were restive under the indignity put upon them. But long habits of ecclesias- tical subordination forbade them to resent it. They presented a very respectfulwhat to the Protestant mind would seem to be a painfully obsequiouspetition for a modification of the papal programme. They simply requested that the committee appointed [by the pope] for the preliminary examination of propositions introduced by members be reinforced by some fathers elected by the Council out of their own midst, and also that members introducing prop- ositions be allowed access to the said commit- tee to enable them to take part in the examin- ation thereof. To this modest request, preferred by repre- sentatives both of the French and German church, the pope paid no attention. His con- temptuous refusal did not tend to conciliate the signers. So, with growing bitterness of feeling, this Council of the most Holy Mother Church commenced its sessions. In one respect his holiness found himself utterly thwarted. It is not in the power of the pope, even in Rome, to build walls so high that the modern press can not scale them. The (loings of the Council were reported from day to day. Detailed accounts of its more im- portant sessions were published every week. Its most secret papers were brought to the light and held up hefore the gaze of Europe. In Rome alone were the sessions concealed from the public eye; for the Roman ~ dared not even copy from the columns of their more enterprising German, French, English, and American contemporaries, and the Roman police banished the obnoxious papers from tj~ e Holy City. The ostrich hid her head in the sand and thought she could not be seen. In vain did the pope remonstrate. In vain did he remind the prelates of their solemn oaths. In vain did he proclaim the disclosure a mortal sin. The holy fathers had learned from the Jesuits how to take an oath with mental res- ervations. The French government had cor- respondents in the council chamberso had the Prussian. What Rome whispered in the ear, France and Prussia proclaimed on the house-tops. One member of the Council was arrested and cast into prison. Whether he was a recreant bishop, or whether he was an impostor clad in ecclesiastical vestments, is not clear. Other bishops, among them some, it is said, from America, were ordered to leave the Council and the city. But the reports did not cease. It is believed that Archbishop Du- panloup kept the Emperor of the French ad- vised of the proceedings of the Council, and that Bishop Strossmayer performed the same service for Bismarck. And Dupanloup and Strossmayer were pot to be trifled with. At all events, while no official report of the. coun- cil meetings has ever been given to the world, the materials for its history are perfectly ac- cessible. An Italian official historian was ap- pointed by the pope. But we need not wait for the product of his pen; the unofficial history is more trust~worthy.* By way of expediting the labors of the ven- erable fathers, the pope had previously con- vened in Rome a committee of men learned in theology, who had been engaged for eighteen months in preparing a schedule of decrees to be submitted to the Council. The product of their labors is said to have filled eighteen large volumes. What in Protestant language wotild be called a Confession of Faith, taken from these volumes, was laid before the Council. It was a singular document. But those who had read and pondered the popes syllabus could not be surprised at it. It condemned freedom of conscience, denied the right of the individual judgment in matters of religion, anathematized liberty of speech, of the press, and of educa- tion, declared the subordination of the state to the church, and asserted that for those who are not within the true church of Christ there is no hope of salvation. It denounced ration- alism, pantheism, materialism, and Protestant- ism in the same breath, classed them as forms of the same heresy, and subjected them to the same anathema. It denounced progress, not only in theology, but in philosophy, in science, in the whole realm of thought. It declared that the church was not only an infallible inter- preter of the written Scriptures, but had the right to add to them the equally authoritative unwritten traditions, of which it was the custo * The true history of the cEcumenical Council has been written by the newspaper correspondents, espe- cially those of France and Gennany. This material we have carefully examined, and we have made no material statement except upon the concurrent testi- mony of two or more imidependent witnesses. 24 PLO NONO AND HIS COUNCILORS. 25 dian. It asserted that not only all questions of theology and of morals were to be determ- ined by the dogmatic decrees of the church it added that never in the progress of mankind had it come to pass, nor would it ever come to pass, that the doctrines of science could be oth- er than such as had been ever held and taught by the church. It was followed by a Schema de Ecciesia yet more astonishing. This schema asserted that the Holy Catholic Church is one, infallible, and divine; is necessary to salvation; is intolerant only as the law of God is intoler- ant of sin; is already presented blameless be- fore the throne of God, without spot, or wrinkle, or blemish, or any such thing; is not the sub- ject but the mistress and ruler of the state; authoritatively pronounces upon what is lawful and what is unlawful in civil legislation; has the right of ordering by its laws, and com- pelling by antecedent judgments and salutary penalties, those who wander and those who are contumacious ~~that is, that the Inquisition is a Christian institution of divine ordainingand that the pope is the supreme and divinely ap- pointed head of the divinely appointed church. The Schema de Fide was a challenge to the in- telleci; of the nineteenth century. The Schema de Ecciesia was a challenge to the governments of Europe. The pope had appointed the 6th day of Jan- uary, 1870, for the first public session. He an- ticipated an obsequious acceptance of the dog- mas which had been prepared. He was mis- taken. On the 6th day of January, 1870, the venerable fathers were still in the midst of heated discussions concerning it. The open- ing session had given but little promise of har- mony. The bishops, unable by request to secure a modification of the papal order of ar- rangements, had indignantly protested against them, and were silenced by the presiding car- dinals. But it was impossible to restrain their in- dignant protests against a decree which placed Paris, Vienna, and Berlin beneath the yoke of Rome. The sessions were prolonged and stormy. MQre than once the angry voices, of the disputants penetrated beyond the walls of the council chamber, and fell upon the ears of the auditors outside. More than once the ses- sion broke up in confusion. The Roman pon- tiff never retracts, never admits an error. A Protestant assembly, if it had not been ready for the transaction of public business, would have postponed the session. The ~IEcumenical Council could do no such simple thing. The public meeting was held. It transacted no other business than an administration of the oath of office to men who had already taken it many of them more than once in successive ordinations. The minority, however, accomplished their purposea prolongation of the debate. For, meanwhile, reports of the proposed decree were flashed across the wires to every state in Eu- rope. To the indignation of the pope, the news- papers published the proposed decrees, and, to his grief, the governments of Europe took it up. Count Darn addressed a respectful remon- strance from Paris, very respectful, for Louis Napoleon was about submitting his claims for a third time to the suifrages of the French peo- ple, and it was desirable not to offend the Ro- man Catholic voters.* The protests of Austria and Prussia were less reverential in their tone. So long, said Count Von Beust, in effect, as Rome confined itself to theology, the court of Vienna had ne inclination to interfere. But it was different when the church was about to claim a permanent and comprehensive pow- er over the state, and to arrogate to herself the right of deciding which of the laws laid down by the secular power were binding on the sub- ject and which not. When, carrying out that principle, she ventured further to denounce lib- erty of religion, liberty of the press, liberty of instruction, civil marriage, and the amenability of the clergy to the civil code, as in the pro- posed schema she did, Rome took a course which would inevitably lead to a disastrous struggle between church and state. Count Von Bismarek was even more pointed. In a note singularly frank and plain-spoken he gave the German bishops fair warning that, if they voted for this insult to Protestantism, and this challenge to the freedom of the state, they could never return to their dioceses. Not even Pope Pius IX. was so infatuated as to do battle with the whole civilized world. Cardinal Antonelli replied, gracefully, to the pro- testing powers, that the obnoxious schema must be understood in a purely Pickwickian sense. There is a great d~ifference, said his excel- lency, between theory and practice. No one will ever prevent the church from proclaiming the great principles upon which its divine fab- ric is based; but, as regards the application of these sacred laws, the church, imitating the ex- ample of its heavenly Founder, is inclined to take into consideration the natural weakness of mankind, and accordingly exacts only so much from human frailty as is within the power of every age and country to render. Which re- minds us, though it does not belong here in our history, how Cardinal Catalpi calmed an angry session, imbittered by Cardinal Schwarz- enbergs defense of Protestants from the pro- posed anathemas of the benign pope. Pope Pius IX., said Catalpi, does indeed curse all Protestants, but it is by a formula. He carries them all in his heart. The considerate mother church, carrying out the principles of her devoted son, Ca~inftl Antonelli, concluded to defer somewhat more than she had done to the natural weakness of mankind. The schema was withdrawn and amended. When it was finally carried it was purely dogmatic. It contained no declaration * The history of this remonstrance and its unofficial presentation, too long to be inserted here, affords a cu- rious illustration of the crooked ways of French diplo- macy under the regime of that astute politician Napo- leon III. 26 hARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. whatever of the relation of the church to the state. Why should it? It will he time enough to declare war against modern civilization when there is a reasonable prospect of success. And an infallible pope need not wait on the decrees of a council. He may proclahm the obnoxious principles when and how he will. The dog- matic constitution was not finally promulgated till the 26th day of April. It was then pro- claimed without a dissenting vote; but careful observers counted the absente0s. They num- bered over sixtynearly one-tenth of the en- tire Council. Meanwhile both parties were preparing for a finala decisive battle. The original plan had been to procure, by a surprise, the passage of a decree of infallibi~ty by acclamation. But the opposition was too strong to be carried by assault, too astute to be lurprised. Other meas- ures were adopted. Petitions were circulated imploring the pope, in the interest of the Cath- olic religion, to proclaim the dogma. They were circulated in secret; but not so secretly as to escape the observation of the minority. Petitions against the decree followed close aft- er, reached his holiness almost simultaneous- ly, and were returned to the signers without even a reply. The opposition was canvassed. The lobbyfor Rome has a lobbywere set to work upon it. Some fathers were cajoled, some bribed, some threatened. A new dress was the price paid for one ecclesiastic; fifteen cardinal hats, looked at wistfully by many a score of ambitious eyes, served as a powerful argument to many others. The personal en- treaty of the pope, the vejy sympathy and at- mosphere of Rome, infected many. A few were (iriven by menace.* * The story of the aged Syrian Patriarch of Baby- Ion is as well authenticated as any story can be which is not publicly vouched for by an eye-witness. He was one of the oldest, as one of the mildest and meek- est, of the venerable fathers. Unable to hear, unable to speak in tones at all audible beyond his immediate circle, he banded a written address to one of his col- leagues to deliver in his name. It was very short and very simple. The question before the Council was upon the prerogatives of the bishops. As to you, my lords, said the aged but still reso- lute father, you can do as you please, but we Orient- als reserve all our rights, which, moreover, have been recognized by the Council of Florence. The pope sent for the patriarch. He was com- manded to come to the Vatican unattended. He found the pontiff pale with holy rage. Two papers lay before him on the table; one contained the pa- triarchs resignation of his office; the other contained a solemn recantation, of his position, and a renuncia- tion~f the privileges and prerogatives which he had cat . The pope bade him choose between the two. The patriarch plead the oath he had taken, to defend the very rights he was now required to relinquish. The pope declared the oath a nullity. The patriarch begged opportunity for consultation. The pope an- grily refused it. The patriarch asked time for con- sideration. The pope replied that he should not leave the room till he had put his signature to one paper or the other. The Castle of Saint Angelo was his al- ternative. There was no government to take up his cause and demand his release. He was old, infirm, decrepit, weak. He signed the recantation, and went back to the Council a broken man. No device was wanting to hamper and to dis- hearten the minority. The hospitalities of Rome were administered by the Jesuit fathers. The wavering and the uncertain were distribu- ted at points remote from one another, and in companionships whose subtle influence only the wary would recognize, only the strong could re- sist. Consultation with their more resolute brethren was effectually prevented by a papal decree, forbidding the assemblage of more than twenty members of the Council under any pre- tense or for any purpose. Those that could not be won over were attacked, maligned, back- bitten. Did they attempt their own defense in the council chamber? This immense scenic hall was so constructed that not one speaker in a score could make his voice heard above the echoes which rang through the dome in answer to every footfall and every word. Did a Dupanloup or a Strossmayer, with his power- ful voice, overcome the acoustic hindrances of a place never designed for an auditory? If he passed a step beyond the line of decorum which Italian priests marked out for him, the stamp- ing and scraping of feet drowned his voice. Did he resort to print? The Roman censor forbade the publication of his letter or his pam- phlet. Surmounting all obstacles, did he send the obnoxious utterance to his native state to be printed and returned to him? The post-office was kept under constant espionage, and his document seized and destroyed. Did he essay the custom-house? Even that was not safe from the surveillance of the Roman police.* Yet, if under this system of well-organized and minute tyranny the opposition diminished in numbers, it gained in intensity. If Pope Pius IX. is a good Catholic, Bishop Stross- mayer and Cardinal Schwarzenberg are so no longer. Strange words were those for old St. Peters to hear which, above the din of many cries and much confusion, and despite the angry interruptions of the presiding cardinal, ran.g out underneath the dome from the lips of those two German prelates on the 22d day of March. The time, cried Cardinal Sc.hwarzenberg, for these cursings between Catholics and Protestants has passed, never to return. I tender them my hand. I long to begin with them the great work of conciliation and pacifi- cation. Protestantism is not, cried the eloquent Bishop Stroesmayer, to be held responsible for atheism, pantheism, and materialism, since many eminent Protestants have been among the able combaters of these doctrines. Nor is it thus that we are to reclaim our separated brothers. No wonder that each speaker was interrupt- ed by outcries which rendered it impossible for him to continue, and that the session broke up in utter and irremediable confusion. You are Protestants, cried the enraged Italians to * Several of the wealthier ecciesiasts sent all their. private correspondence byprivate heralds to neighbor- ing cities to be mailed. HO NOKO AND HIS COUNCILORS. 27 cerning the damnation of unbaptized infants was anathematized by the Council of Treat; that tbe decree of Celestine III. concerning marriage with heretics was annulled by Inno- cent III., and its author pronounced a heretic for issuing it by Hadrian VI.; that Honorins I. was condemned for heresy, and his writings publicly burned by the Third Council of Con- stantinople in the seventh century; that the Bi- ble of Sixtus V. was suppressed by his succcssor ia office for its innumerable errors; that Pope Calixto was a~Sabellian, Pope Liberio an An- an, Pope Zosimo a Pelagian; that the dogma of papal infallibility, never seriously main- tained in the church till the thirteenth century, had been repeatedly and officially denied since, as in the Oath and Declaration taken by tbe Irish Catholics in 1793, and reiterated by a synod of Irish bishops in 1810; and that in a catechism of the church, indorsed by Arch- bishop Manning himself, published as late as the German prelates. It was false; they are the beginning of the present century, it was not; they are only anti - papists. But we emphatically denounced as a Protestant in- gladly proffer them the right hand of Christian vention. fellowship, as protesting and liberty-loving, Turning from the past to the present and the though still devout and faithful, Catholics.* fnture, they pointed out to the majority the The minority made a brave but ineffectual ominous signs of danger to the church. The battle against the fatal decree. They recalled common people, even in Italy, taking up the the personal history of Peter himself, whom obnoxious decree, discussed it in a spirit which Paul withstood to the face because he was to passed not infrequently from the irreverential be blamed ; they recalled the history of the to the blasphemous. On the day on which the great Apostolical Council at Jerusalem, ~vhose (Ecumenical Council was convened in Rome decree was the result of a free and fraternal a convention of laboring men met in Florence conference of the coequal Apostles; they ran- to denounce the Church of Rome, and with it, sacked the writings of the Greek and Latin fa- alas! that Christianity which she assumes to thers, and showed that not a sentence was to represent. Pasquinades, more powerful than be found therein, even by implication, favoring arguments, circulated among the common peo- the dogma of papal infallibility; they point- ple. A burlesque petition for the abolition of ed out how impossible would have been the astronomy, as the parent of rationalism, was theological controversies which rent the church drawn up and distributed throughout the city. in the first centuries of its existence, and which A bitter satirical verse, whose keenness is some- were settled only after years of fierce discus- what dulled in translation, was posted on the sion by successive councils, if a papal bull was very walls of the Vatican itself: all that was needed for their determination; When Eve tasted and gave the fatal fruit, they reminded the Council that neither the God became man, and to man freedom gave; pope nor his legates took part in the First Pius the Ninth, Gods vicar here below, Council of Constantinople in 381; that the dec- Makes himself God to render man a slave. laration of Innocent I. and Gelasins I. con- American bishops declared that the promulga- _______________________________________ tion of a decree of infallibility would band all * The distinction between Catholics and papists is parties and all faiths in the United States curiously and unfortunately ignored by too many Prot- against the too subservient church which suf- estants, who erroneously imagine that all Catholics are fered it. German and Austrian bishops assert- Romanists. This is not true, even in Italy, and s~till ed that it would expel the Catholic priests less in Germany and France. Since writing this article a friend narrated to us the following incident: i was from the public schools, and take from their in one of the cathedrals of Italy, he said, not long bands the education of the young. The On- since, on the occasion of a great church festival. The ental bishops asserted that it would driie their church was crowded. A priest delivered a sermon in churches from the see of Rome into the com- which he undertook to commend the doctrine of papal infallibility. But each time he touched upon the doc- munion of the Eastern church. French bish- tnine a hiss arose, so loud and long that he was unable ops asserted that it would cut the last tie which to proceed. Three times he essayed it, and each time hound the empire to the pope, and take from was vanquished. I turned to an Italian and said, ~, his holiness the guards on whose presence he thought youwere all good Catholicshere. So we are, said he, hut we are not papists. We misjudge partly relied for safety from the irruptions of the Ital- because Irish Catholics are, almost without exception, ian people. papists, since, in their case, there is no allegiance to All was in vain. To argument, warning, their own government to conflict with their allegiance to the church. And yet many Irish Catholics refuse entreaty, the more astute of the majority sel- to yield their devotion to Fenianism at the papal decree. dom vouchsafed a reply. When one was pro- Besnor STaOSSMAYER. 28 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. duced it was of a character which the Protest- ant mind endeavors in vain to comprehend. One ecclesiastic soberly declared that the pope was infallible becanse Peter was crucified with his head downward, which shows, lie said, that the church stands on its head. A sec- ond asserted, oracularly, that his hearers would find the evidence of infallibility in the inscrip- tions of the catacombs. A third quoted from Pius IX. himself the conclusive statement: As plain Abhe Mastai I always believed in infallibility; as Pope Mastai Ifeel it. Against such arguments what remained to be raid? Let us add that a few ignorant bat honest prelates really believed that the day on which the decree of papal infallibility was publicly pro- claimed would witness a new descent of the Holy Spirit, a new baptism from on high of the holy father, a new era in the history of the church. Twice, by the adoption of a modified form of the previous question, the debate on specific portions of the schema was brought to an ab- rupt close. More than once speakers, too im- petuous and unguarded, were stamped or hissed down. Bishop Strossmayer demanded that the relation of church and state should be first de- termined, that it might be known whether the pope was made by such a decree the political superior of the state. His demand was treated wjth contempt. He pointed to the fact that no council in the past had ever confirmed a decree except by a nearly unanimous vote, and de- manded the application of the same principle to the present dogma. His demand was re- ceived with open, violent, and unseemly marks of indignation. The almost tropical heats of summer approached. The fathers grew restive under their long confinement. Thirteen died during the first three months in which they were in session. The minority could contest no lon- ger. The arts of Rome could reduce their num- ber no fnrther. On the 13th of July, 1870, a little more than six months from the time of conven- ing, the final vote was taken, the dogma of Pa- pal Infallibility was made a dogma of the Ro- man Catholic Church, and the souls of her two hundred millions of believers were transferred from the custody of their priests and bishops to that of the holy father, vicegerent of God. * The opposition, at the last, proved unexpected- ly strong. Eighty-eight voted in the negative; * The decree does not declare that the pope is sin- less, nor that, as a man and acting unofficially, he is infallible, hut that, when speaking ex cethedrathat is to say, when fulfilling the charge of pastor and doc- tor of eli Christians, in virtue of his supreme apos- tolical authority he defines that a doctrine regard- ing faith or morals ought to be held by the universal church, he enjoys fully, by the divine assistance which has been promised him in the person of the blessed Peter, that infallibility which the Divine Redeemer wished his church to have, in defining his doctrine touching faith or morals; and, consequently, such def- initions of the Roman pontiff are unchangeable in themselves, and not in virtue of the approval of the church. In other words, that infallibility which the Roman Catholic Church has always clahued is, by this decree, simply transferred from the council to the pope. It is the tiara, not the mitre, which is infallible. sixty-two gave but a qualified assent; about seventy absented themselves from the council ball to avoid voting. The number of affirma- tive votes is variously reported from four hun- dred and fifty-one to four hundred and eighty- eight. The whole number of ecclesiastics sum- moned to the Council was a thousand. Less than half that number recorded their approval of the decree. Over a quarter of the Cpuncil, actually convened, signified, more or less direct- ly, their disapproval of it. Among the eighty- eight who voted in the negative were three car- dinals, two patriarchs, and four archbishops. They included some of the best and purest spir- its in the church.* To the last the minority had hoped that the dogma would be put forth as a probable doc- trine, not as a necessary belief. But even in this they were doomed to disappointment. This most extraordinary declaration of f~iith closes with the usual formula by which Rome is ac- customed to commend her doctrines to her obe- dient children: If any one, which may God forbid, have the temerity to contradict our def- inition, let him be anathema. Monday, the 18th of July, was appointed for the promulgation of this decree. Spectators could not fail to notice the difference between the pious enthusiasm which greeted the opening of the Council, and the cold indifference with which the consummation of its labors was re- ceived. No gay pennants fluttered from house or store. No elaborate decorations clothed the sombre streets of Rome with the habiliments of the carnival. No hurrying carriages, no thronging of pedestrians, proclaimed the advent of an unusual event. The summer heats had driven the strangers from the Holy City. The devout Romans looked with supreme indiffer * The eighty-eight prelates who voted aea placet on July 13, according to the London Tablet, represented the following nationalities: Germans 33 French 10 Orientals 8 S English 2 Irish 2 Dr. Errington 1 Total Among the most distinguished of the foreign prelates included in this enumeration were Prince Schwarzen- berg, Cardinal Archbishop of Prague; Mathien, Car- dinal Archhishop of Besan~on; Rauscher, Cardinal Archbishop of Vienna; Ginonihiac, Archbishop of Lyons; Darboy, Bishop of Paris; Dupont des Loges, of Metz; Dupanloup, of Orleans; Strossmayer, of Bosnia and Styrmium. The bishops from the United States and British America who voted non placet were Connolly, Archbishop of Halifax, Bishops Rogers, of Chatham, Bourget, of Montreal, Domenec, of Pitte- burg, Fitzgerald, of Little Rock, MQ,uaid, of Roch- ester, and Kendrick, Archbishop of St. Louis. The Americans who gave but a qualified assent, by voting placet juxta modum, were Archbishops Blanchet, of Oregon City, and MCloskey, of New York, and Bish- ops Arnal, of Monterey, and Verot, of Savannah; also Demers, Bishop of Vancouver. Several other Amer- ican prelates were earnest opponents of the measure, but left Rome before the vote was taken. This was the case with Archbishop Purcell, of Cincinnati. PlO NONO AND HIS COUNCILORS. 29 ence upon the solemn deification of one of their own number by the mother church. A few hundred spectators loitered idly beneath the dome of St. Peters. They were mostly women, children, and monks. There was no solemn pageantry, no magnificent procession. The ecclesiastics came in singly or in little groups of two or three. When at length the pope ar- rived, and the choir took up the opening chant, nearly a third of the seats in the council cham- ber were still vacant. The minority, true to their churchly instincts, yet true also to them- selves, had followed their vote with a dignified but unavailing remonstrance, then had with- drawn in a body from a Council whose author- ity it is by no means certain they will acknowl- edge. Of the august assemblage which kneeled reverentially before the pope on the 8th of De- cember, 1869, five hundred and thirty-five re- mainedtwo for the purpose of recording their final non placet in the presence of the pope.* One of the secretaries of the Council read * One of these courageous hishops is reported to have heen Fitzgerald, Bishop of Little Rock. the decree in a shrill, penetrating voice. As the reading proceeded a strange darkness set- tled over the scene. Even to stout and skep- tical hearts it seemed almost supernatural. The very air grew thick and murky. The roll-call commenced. The ecclesiastics, rising in their places, responded with their assent to an act of blasphemy which has had no parallel since the declining days of the Roman Empire. At the same instant the long-brooding storm broke over the Vatican. Sheeted lightning illumined the council chamber with an unearthly glare. Continuous peals of thunder drowned the voices and the votes of the ecclcsiastics. And still, amidst a scene of indescribable and awful sub- limity, the vote was taken. At length the pope arose to announce the result of the Council, and to assume the prerogative which, in the uni- versal judgment of mankind, belongs to God alone. But the darkness had become too great for his failing eyesight. He was unable to de- cipher the paper which contained the appropri- ate formula. A servitor was summoned with a lighted taper to his aid. So, amidst a dark- ness which veiled the unnatural scene, amid~. REA])rNe OF THE DEcREE. 30 thunders which drowned the audacious voices, the Council of the Vatican completed its labors. Completed, we say. It may indeed resume its sessions. But only an Italian remnant is left, and nothing remains to be done. Its mis- sion is completed. An infallible pope has no need of councilors. The immediate effect of this decree is easy to be seen. Henceforth the Roman Catholic Church is the servant of the Jesuit order. Its ultimate effect it is impossible to prophesy. Al- ready, at the time of our writing, the French troops are withdrawn from the Holy City, and that despite the holy fathers clamorous appeal for one frigate. The faithful are contrib HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. uting of their resources to sustain a papal army in the Papal States. Italy is increasing her armament to protect the pope; and umors are rife that the pope is preparing~ flee from her protection to one of the islands of the Mediterranean. And the air is full of un- contradicted rumors of inchoate schisms, in the Orient, in Germany, in France, and even in the United States. What harvest the future church may gather from this wind-sowing we shall not venture to prophesy; but this much is certain, that, in all the past, the papacy has received no more severe blow than that which it has suf- fered at the hands of Pope Pius IX. and his pious councilors. LIFE IN BRITTANY. IlBRETON PEASANTSTHEIR TRADI TIONS AND CUSTOMS. ONE who has long lived in Paris, on going into Brittany, finds himself in the midst of a strange language. Should a Welsh rustic, however, find his way there, he would find that he had more than half a notion of the Bre- ton tongue. Old Welsh and old Breton are alike modifications of old Celtic. One who travels, first in rural Wales and then in rural Brittany, will find a likeness in not a few pf the habits of the two communities, and even in their physique. In passing through a crooked-street- ad, thatch-roofed, musty-looking old Breton village, one observes, first of all, the women; what a tough, hardy, baked look they have, and the quaint costumes with which they adorn themselves! They are as brown and brawny as the Welsh farmers lass; not so brisk, how- ever. Their faces are too often blank expanses of rugged flesh. The expression is essentially animal, hardly a spark of human intelligence lighting them, not even, alas! when they smile. If you, perchance, have a smattering of the Bre- ton patois, and talk to them, you will find that, beyond their immediate work, their excessive superstition, and their blind reverence for the priest, they know absolutely nothing. It is re- corded in the histories how Brittany, now the most Catholic of French provinces, was the last to submit to the domination of the Merovin- gians, and also to that of Roman Christianity. It held to Druidism to the hitter end. When once Catholic, however, it stuck to Catholicism with the same stout vigor. The most Catholic, it is far the most ignorant of French provinces. The ignorance of the common people almost passes credence. Many have never heard of Paris. One village oracle whom I met, a rev- erend man of vast and varied learning, opined that America was an English colony; and thought I could not possibly be an American, as my skin was white and my hair straight. There are whole villages where they think France to be the world; and you might put the question, whether France were an empire or a republic, to the whole population, and there would be no answer; unless one, alarmingly inquisitive, should ask, What is an empire? The women are short, thick, sinewy, with dusty bro~vn hair, which is thin and ill dressed; broad faces, with high cheek-bones, dark, almost leath- er-like skins, large feet and hands, short muscu- lar limbs, superior, if any thing, to the men in strength. It may be that nature has thus pro- vided them for good reasons, for th~y perform masculine labor quite as much as do the men themselves. Traveling through Brittany, you see as many women as men plowing, digging, sowing, and reaping in the fields. The dress of the female peasants is quaint and tasteful. They have pinafores, which are of various and brilliant colors, reaching from the waist half- way to the neck, whence to the neck is a snow- white frill. Their dresses are not made with narrow waists; indeed, to look at them, you would imagine their bodies to be built square. Chains of silver, of curious workmanship, ex- tend from their pinafores in front to the shoul- der; sometimes are hung about the neck. These are, however, only displayed on Sundays, when they go to church, and walk with their husbands and children through the vineyards and along the shrub-bordered roads. Their feet are deformed by huge wooden shoes, turned up at the end, in Turkish fashion, and are wofully clumsy; but as they cost but ten sons a pair, and wear ten years, they are fain to temper themselves to them How sharply does the clattering of these sabots over the rough village street break in on the prevailing majesty of rustic stillness! The smallest female children are dressed much like tbe adult women. They have, like the lat- ter, long white caps, extending horizontally back from the head, waistless long dresses, pinafore and bib, uncouth sabots; and they look like lit- tle old women, a race of pigmies, stopping short, full-grown, in infancy. The training of the Bre- ton peasant children is so curious an art that we must dwell upon it before passing to their sires Schooling is seldom or never thought of. They are inured to the hard realities of life

George M. Towle Towle, George M. Life in Brittany. - II. Breton Peasants 30-40

30 thunders which drowned the audacious voices, the Council of the Vatican completed its labors. Completed, we say. It may indeed resume its sessions. But only an Italian remnant is left, and nothing remains to be done. Its mis- sion is completed. An infallible pope has no need of councilors. The immediate effect of this decree is easy to be seen. Henceforth the Roman Catholic Church is the servant of the Jesuit order. Its ultimate effect it is impossible to prophesy. Al- ready, at the time of our writing, the French troops are withdrawn from the Holy City, and that despite the holy fathers clamorous appeal for one frigate. The faithful are contrib HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. uting of their resources to sustain a papal army in the Papal States. Italy is increasing her armament to protect the pope; and umors are rife that the pope is preparing~ flee from her protection to one of the islands of the Mediterranean. And the air is full of un- contradicted rumors of inchoate schisms, in the Orient, in Germany, in France, and even in the United States. What harvest the future church may gather from this wind-sowing we shall not venture to prophesy; but this much is certain, that, in all the past, the papacy has received no more severe blow than that which it has suf- fered at the hands of Pope Pius IX. and his pious councilors. LIFE IN BRITTANY. IlBRETON PEASANTSTHEIR TRADI TIONS AND CUSTOMS. ONE who has long lived in Paris, on going into Brittany, finds himself in the midst of a strange language. Should a Welsh rustic, however, find his way there, he would find that he had more than half a notion of the Bre- ton tongue. Old Welsh and old Breton are alike modifications of old Celtic. One who travels, first in rural Wales and then in rural Brittany, will find a likeness in not a few pf the habits of the two communities, and even in their physique. In passing through a crooked-street- ad, thatch-roofed, musty-looking old Breton village, one observes, first of all, the women; what a tough, hardy, baked look they have, and the quaint costumes with which they adorn themselves! They are as brown and brawny as the Welsh farmers lass; not so brisk, how- ever. Their faces are too often blank expanses of rugged flesh. The expression is essentially animal, hardly a spark of human intelligence lighting them, not even, alas! when they smile. If you, perchance, have a smattering of the Bre- ton patois, and talk to them, you will find that, beyond their immediate work, their excessive superstition, and their blind reverence for the priest, they know absolutely nothing. It is re- corded in the histories how Brittany, now the most Catholic of French provinces, was the last to submit to the domination of the Merovin- gians, and also to that of Roman Christianity. It held to Druidism to the hitter end. When once Catholic, however, it stuck to Catholicism with the same stout vigor. The most Catholic, it is far the most ignorant of French provinces. The ignorance of the common people almost passes credence. Many have never heard of Paris. One village oracle whom I met, a rev- erend man of vast and varied learning, opined that America was an English colony; and thought I could not possibly be an American, as my skin was white and my hair straight. There are whole villages where they think France to be the world; and you might put the question, whether France were an empire or a republic, to the whole population, and there would be no answer; unless one, alarmingly inquisitive, should ask, What is an empire? The women are short, thick, sinewy, with dusty bro~vn hair, which is thin and ill dressed; broad faces, with high cheek-bones, dark, almost leath- er-like skins, large feet and hands, short muscu- lar limbs, superior, if any thing, to the men in strength. It may be that nature has thus pro- vided them for good reasons, for th~y perform masculine labor quite as much as do the men themselves. Traveling through Brittany, you see as many women as men plowing, digging, sowing, and reaping in the fields. The dress of the female peasants is quaint and tasteful. They have pinafores, which are of various and brilliant colors, reaching from the waist half- way to the neck, whence to the neck is a snow- white frill. Their dresses are not made with narrow waists; indeed, to look at them, you would imagine their bodies to be built square. Chains of silver, of curious workmanship, ex- tend from their pinafores in front to the shoul- der; sometimes are hung about the neck. These are, however, only displayed on Sundays, when they go to church, and walk with their husbands and children through the vineyards and along the shrub-bordered roads. Their feet are deformed by huge wooden shoes, turned up at the end, in Turkish fashion, and are wofully clumsy; but as they cost but ten sons a pair, and wear ten years, they are fain to temper themselves to them How sharply does the clattering of these sabots over the rough village street break in on the prevailing majesty of rustic stillness! The smallest female children are dressed much like tbe adult women. They have, like the lat- ter, long white caps, extending horizontally back from the head, waistless long dresses, pinafore and bib, uncouth sabots; and they look like lit- tle old women, a race of pigmies, stopping short, full-grown, in infancy. The training of the Bre- ton peasant children is so curious an art that we must dwell upon it before passing to their sires Schooling is seldom or never thought of. They are inured to the hard realities of life LIFE IN BRITTANY. 31 from toddling infan- cy. There are many traditions and cus- toms regarding chil- dren which have come down front times which were long be- fore Capet or Bour- hon reigned. At the hirth of a child, not only the hushand, but all the relatives and near neighbors of the parents, are present; these remain outside the door until the hirth, and are then admitted en masse. They busy themselves in performing such services as the situ- ation may require. One presents the mo- ther, according to mi- memorial tradition, a glass of warm wine. A voluble dame, eru- dite in long-practiced family history, gives a long account of kin- dred scenes at which she has assistedlit- tle heeded, because often beard. Anoth- er waits upon the hus- band, who is usually in a state of happy in- ebriety, and prevails 111)011 him to make his toilet ; a fourth takes vicarious charge of the newly born babe for the while. The superstitious peasant is in great haste to have the bap- tism over; it takes place in the village church by the curd, in the presence of a few intimate friends, and invariably in the morn- ing. Were noon past, and the baptism not over, there would be a shadow on the childs life ever after. Following this ceremony is the christening feast, at the fathers behest and ex- pense. A lusty meal this, of cabbabe and fish and sour bread, and wine which unhahituated mortals might call vinegar. To drink unto drunkenness is the inflexible rule at the chris- tening feast; a man is no man who fails in it. The women, however, stop before the reasona- ble stage of hilarity is exceeded, and depart to provide resting-places for their lords, who are apt to spend the ensuing night prone on the floor. Superstition in these parts has, it seems, no terrors for the man who makes himself a beast. In these orgies the baby is, of course, the hero, or heroine; he is handed from one to the other in his swaddling-clothes, and receives, if not the tenderest, at least the most affection- ate, treatment from the inebriate guests. The feast is held at one of the little village cabarets; water is strictly and sacredly forbidden; forks are banished; the guests mnst eat with spoons. It is the traditional custom to commence the repast in profound silence; and the feasters may only break into articulate nierriment when the red wine, which forms the second potable course, circles around and fires up the thick peasant brains. The poor baby, whose entrance upon worldly sorrows and joys is thus inaugurated, begins life in a most uncomfortable manner by A RAINY DAY IN ]IIIITTANY. 32 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. being wrapped tightly in coarse cloths, and bound with stout bands crossing each other in all directions, thus being made up into a com- pact bundle, its head only protruding. Thus it is laid in the cradle and borne about on its mothers back for months together. A Breton superstition referring to infants is, that if they are ever passed over a table, from one person to another, it is a sign of certain misfortune. The weaning, among the peasants, is long post- poned; some infants are not weaned till their fourth year. Almost as soon as they can walk, however, they are put into the fields to work, performing such slighter labor as their strength permits. If you go abroad into the fields at harvest-time, you will see groups of little chil- dren under the trees playing, or perhaps assist- ing in the work, and young women carrying the infants about in their arms. At that season, ~vhen the parents go forth a-harvesting, all the family goes with them, and the mid-day meal is partaken in common under the trees and alongside the brooks. The Bretons are a pro- lific race; hardly a family but has half a dozen children, some fifteen or twenty. But these, far from being burdensome to their parents, are often their best practical treasures. I have seen a boy of three tending a herd of cattle, turning them out to graze in a distant field in the morning; going to fetch them at nightfall; penning them into the cow-yard, and giving them their evening fodder; then securing them under the farm-sheds for the night. This kind of labor is represented to the child as a trust and privilege, as something which he must feel proud and honored to do. The little fellows are thus anxious to begin, and perform the tasks with a pride and relish very amusing to see. In fact, the promise that he shall tend the herd assumes the shape of a reward, and as a bribe to persuade him to be weaned. Armed with a long pole or switch in one hand, and a crisp buckwheat biscuit in the other, the little fellow struts out and shouts shrilly at the beasts, with all the importance of~ one to whom a new and great trust has been confided. He wears a long coarse gown reaching nearly to his feet, the toes peeping out from the thick stockings with which they are enveloped, while on his head is one of his fathers old hats. One of the peasant customs with regard to their children is unpleasant to name, but affords a striking il- lustration of the degradation in which they live. When a boy reaches his seventh or eighth year, it is the ancient custom to make him drink to intoxication. It occurs on a festal occasion, to which the relatives and friends are invited. He is seated on his grandfathers lap, if that patri- arch is present, and receives the fiery white wine from his fathers hands, mother and friends looking approvingly on. The boy drinks heart- ily, thinking and encouraged to think it manly, and soon becomes crazily uproarious. This is his first lesson in drunkenness; he is expected to follow it up for the rest of his life, his future instruction being confided to his own judgment. Evit buhen ! (drink quick!) is the ex- hortation of the company; and he needs no fur- ther prompting. He is narrowly watched; for the peasants say that a man in liquor betrays himself, and thus they judge of his character according to his actions while intoxicated. If he be hilarious and playful, well; if savage and morose, not so well. ,This is the boys inaugu- ration into the pleasures of the peasant life. Henceforth he joins in all the fetes and merry- makings. It is not wonderful that the prevail- ing vice of the Breton peasantry is drunken- ness. It is a thing, both with the men and with the women, rather to be applauded than re- buked. The physical ill effects of the univers- al habit are, indeed, to some degree counter- acted by the necessity under which they live, to work hard and constantly. Their toughness of constitution, their hardy peasant blood, the early age at which they begin to labor, render the effects of their orgies less obtrusive. The penchant for drink is universal. Infants drink; old men drink until their rough and withered throats are paralyzed in death. The cause is not obscure. Privation produces excess. The peasant has but few joys. He works hard; he must enjoy his leisure moments. This one bad luxury, drink, is his. Wine is cheap; most peasants make it themselves. It is within the reach of all. When, after sundown, they have at last laid down their implements of toil, the first thing thought of is the cabaret, and the warm wine waiting there. Iltes and church holy-days are an, excuse for a days drunkenness instead of an evenings. Besides the ordinary wine of the country, they have cider and perry, and ean- de~vie, simply made, yet very strong. Add to this the universal joy of the poor manthe pipe and you have the sum of happiness for the Breton peasant. Dancing is another very fa- vorite amusement; it is not less so to the look- er-on observing this pastime. They dance as if their life depended on their nearly shaking it out of them, swinging their arms about, their hair all over their faces, the perspiration cover- ing their foreheads, and their great wooden shoes clattering loudly upon the stone floors. All their amusements, as all their thoughts, are traditional. They got both from their parents; they transmit both to their children. They look upon all innovation both with fear and with contempt. No inventions ever reach them. They spin with the old wheels, draw water with the old buckets from the old wells, work with the old hoes and rakes, wear the old garments, live in the old mud and beamed huts, drink the old beverages, dance the old dances, and cling with superstitious ardor to the old religion. In their curates and their notaries they have con- fiding trust; those two have all the learning necessary to soul and body, and beyond them they respect no man. They are parsimonious. They save carefully their trifling earnings, and it is very hard with them to lose a jot of what they save. Even in their moments of jollity, LIFE IN BRITTANY. 33 when most men relax the avaricious in their result in tragedies. On the other hand, you find natures, these peasants keep a soher look-out him resigned to his sphere and his state, patient on their pockets. The only symptom of gen- under disappointment, and never despairing. erosity is their almost universal sympathy with Rousseau has said, wisely, that the first law the very poor, and their contrihutions to the of resignation comes to us from nature. The Church. To the very, poor they are seldom peasant of Brittany is perhaps as near to na- inhospitable; the wandering heggar, if he hut ture as any human being to be found in the reaches a village, is seldom in want of a place civilized parts of the world. The peasant is to lie in, and a morsel of homely food to eat. not wanting in rude courage; he will not seek Take the peasant in his sober moments, inter- danger; but in danger thrust upon him he is rupt him while working in the fields, and en- intrepid and pertinacious in dealing with the gage him to talk, and you will find him serious, exigency. even disposed to melancholy. Offend him, and He rises at dawn, and hastily eats his break- you will find him fierce, savage, brutal. The fast immediately after dressing. The meal quarrels of the peasants are often terrific, and consists of hard, sour bread, made in great fat Yoa. XLILNo. 24T.3 ( SUNnAY IN BRITTANYLEAvING caUllOll. 34 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. loaves, two or three feet long, and fish-shaped; cabhage soup, of which the peasants are very fond; hard cakes of buckwheat (which is only used as food by the peasants, and, being consid- ered plebeian, is never to be found on the ta- bles of Breton gentlemen); some white wine; and once in a while a preserved sardine or salt fish. At noon one of his children brings him a homely lunch of much the same sort; and he eats his third meal at sundown, when his work is over for the day. Much can not be said in praise of the cleanliness of the Breton peasant- ry; they use cold water once in several weeks. But the women are less slovenly than the men; for they take great pride in dressing themselves after the traditional fashion of their locality, and appear, on Sundays, very neat and gorgeous. Ma~-iages de convenaace are customary not only among the higher and aristocratic classes, but extend as well to the lowest peasantry. Property is, among all, the great thing desired; the poorest peasant has at least some trifling pittance laid by, with parts of which he intends to endow his children when they marry. There i~ the same diplomatic negotiation among them, when a marriage is to be arranged, as takes place in the upper circles. Marriages of the commercial sort are, however, not so general among the peasants as among their social bet- ters. The parties immediately concerned are more frequently consulted as to their inclina- tions. The first move is made after a prefer- ence has been manifested among the young peasants themselves. A young man sees a lass who pleases him. He makes certain advances rather bashfully; she responds by tokens equal- ly shy. It comes to be generally understood in the village that Jac~ues and Nannine will make a matchif they can. Then occurs a remarkable event. There is in Brittany a curious superstitionor rather a superstitious traditionabout tailors. It is derived from some ancient legend which has endowed the village tailor with a peculiar sacredness and reverence. The tailor (in default of a notary) is called, upon to settle disputes, to teach the children with the priest, and to advise the good folk in all domestic or social difficulties. His peculiar prerogative is to negotiate marriages. The young man who is taken with the passion that comes in time to all finds in him. a trusty adviser, engag~s him to arrange a. marriage with the damsels parents, and to vicariously pop the question. There is a Breton saying that the tailor could, an he would, marry a Turk to a Jewess. Another diplomat in mar- riages, the tailors rival, is he who is called the marrying beggar, who has similar pre- rogatives in this nietier. The tailor, when he enters upon a marriage negotiation, carries with him, as a symbol of his office and a hint of his errand, a broomstick (in low Breton called baz-valan), making the object of his visit clearly known to all concerned. For his services he receives an invitation to the wedding feast, and presents of clothes and money. The bride is also fain to give him a pair of stock- ings with yellow rims, sometimes a yellow stock- ing for one foot, a red one for the other. The tailor, according to the tradition, not so fa- vorable to him, must remain a bachelorit is a disgrace to parents to marry their daughter to him. He is the confidant both of the pa- rents and of the lovers, and is consequently pro- found in all the domestic and interesting se- crets of the neighborhood. He is the uni- versal judge of the scandals; he makes it a point to keep his mouth tight while his ea~ are openand so is a mentor to all. When the tailor has brought the parents of two lovers to- gether, there ensues an animated bargaining about the dowries. It is a shrewd, mercantile negotiation, usually, with the mediation of the tailor, ending in a treaty mutually satisfactory. Once in accord, the parties proceed to seal the contract by drinking as much of the best wine to be had as each can master; afterward seat- ing themselves about the table, and smoking the pipe of peace, alliance, and concord. The lass who is the subject of discourse is perhaps list- ening, ears all agape; flutters with the mo- mentary doubtfulness; goes wild with joy over the happy conclusion. Afterward both fami- lies meet at the cabaret and formally sign the contract, which the tailor has drawn up in true legal shape; adjourning to the farms of each family to inspect the property, and to exhibit the substantial evidences that the dowry promised will be forthcoming. A few days thereafter the fathers proceed to the nearest town, in theircarts, to purchase the wedding presents which have heen agreed to on either hand in the contract. Articles of dress, cheap showy jewelry for the bride clothes and implements of husbandry for the groom, are the usual purchases. Some- times the young couple go with their parents, and themselves choose the presents. If there is no town near by, the purchases are made in the village; and the day hecomes one of gen- eral holiday and merry-making. The musi- cians of the village play what music they can on the green before the church, and the friends of the happy couple engage in games and dan- cing. They are treated to wine and soup, and ever and anon the practical business is inter- rupted for merry-making. On a subsequent appointed day the fathers go about giving in- vitations to their friends in person to attend the marriage; meeting them in the street, or at their houses, or going for the purpose to the fields where they are at work. There are, in country as in town, two marriage ceremonies the civil and the religious. The peasantry at- tach little or no importance to the first. They go to the civil marriage in their everyday cos- tumes, and do not invite their friends or have festivities on the occasion of it. The ceremony is performed by the notary in presence of the parents who look upon it as little more than a formal betrothal. The young couple do not regard themselves as married until after the religious consecration of the bond. A fort- LIFE IN BRITTANY. 35 night, sometimes a month, intervenes between the two ceremonies. During the interval the couple return to their wonted occupations, as though not having relinquished the duties or the position of single life, and meanwhile do not see or communicate with each other. Then comes the pomp of the religious rite, alluring to the sight and imagination of the excitable peasantry, with its chants and joyous chimes, the mysterious veil, the benediction of rings, the sacrament of bread and wine. The night hefore this imposing feast the bridegroom husies himself with the preparations, and sees to it that all is in readiness. The musicians, from the nearest town, are provided with the hest chamber in his fathers house. Early on the wedding morning these artists hegin to perform before the door, to remind the folk of the approaching event, and to commence the day with the brisk harmonies proper to it. Ev- ery body is dressed in his and her best, the women especially taking care that their dress- es and toilets shall rival their neighbors. The men mount their lusty horses, the women march on foot, and thus a procession is formed, which proceeds to the antique little village church. Bride and bridegroom, godfather and godmo- ther, priest, choir, and beadle, have already arrived. The audience assembled, the solemn ceremony goes on. You would be at once struck by the simple and blind devotion of the homely group as they stand or kneel below the altar. The henediction is pronounced, and there is a general movement toward the little sacristy; congratulations, kissings, and em- bracings on the way, the priest as merry and talkative as the rest. Meats and wines, pro- vided by the bridegroom, are set out in the sacristy. It is a temporary refreshment before returning home. Here the hilarity of the fes- tival begins to come out, not to cease for sev- eral days. The cur~ with a pretty speech, of- fers the first glass of wine to the bride, who sips, as a signal for the rest to drink. The horses are next brought out before the church door. The bridegroom is the first to mount~ several of the men lift the bride up hehind him, where she sits sideways, smiling, blushing, and clinging to her good man s arm. The other men mount, their wives climb up behind them, and so, laughing, joking, singing, screaming, they all jog off merrily home again. They stop at the largest open green which the village af- fords; and here the traditional wedding dances hegin. It is a well-known historical fact that, in classical times, the dance was a solemn re- ligious ceremony, performed on the occasion of sacred festivals; and especially was it one of the religious rites attendant upon a marriage. So the wedding dance, immediately after the marriage, is in Brittany indispensable, and in some sort completes the rites of the day. The bride commences the dance alone. When the music strikes up she advances into the middle of the green, and begins to march slowly to the cadence of the music. Her female rela- tives and near friends then follow her example, imitating her and guided hy her, and make the MARRIAGE FESTIVITIES. 36 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. tour of the green without cavaliers. This clone, the bridegroom and male relatives ad- vance, he taking his hrides hand, and the rest the hands of their partners. A wide ring is formed, a regular country dance follows. Mean- while tables are brought out and loaded with refreshments proper to the seasonfruit, wine, cider, cakes, buckwheat biscuit, pdtisserie, and confitures. The dance ended, the party dis- cuss the dishes set forth for their delecta- tion. Thus, till nightfall, there are alternate- ly dancing and feasting, the hilarity ever in- creasing under the inspiration of the bever- ages and the excitement. Two ancient, tradi- tion*iry Breton dances, always performed at the weddings, it may be interesting briefly to describe. These are the gavotte and the bal. They have come down from a high antiquity, and the Breton antiquaries are fain to refer them to the Druidical age. The ga- votte is a very lively dance, presenting to the amazed eyes of the foreigner numberless turn- ings and counter-twistings~ led by one of the most expert dancers, who seems to have no rule except his momentary impulse. The dance is accompanied by shouts and hurrahs, and is so energetic as soon to exhaust the participants. The bal is a more solemn and stately dance, commencing also with a sort of spiral move- mentthe performers separating by couples, and dancing one before the other. There is, too, a slow, measured dance, not unlike ~he time - honored minuet of our grandsires. The wedding dances are really interesting and picturesque to see. The quaint local costumes, the excitement, the bounding, leaping, and shouting, the seeming want of order and meth- od, the sudden, amusing, and often graceful tableaux, give the scene a vivacity and fresh- ness which are rare to the dweller in great cit- ies. The festivities of the wedding-day (10 not, however, end with the dances and with night- fall. The scene then changes from the open lawn to some tents which have been erected near by, beneath which bountiful tables have been spread. Here takes place the Brides Feast (La Table de la Marlee). The dances over, hither flock the guestsusually compris- ing the whole village and neighborhood. The viands are plenteous, the hilarity unchecked. Furnaces and ovens are set up just outside the tents, where the hot meats and vegetables are cooked on the spot. The young men serve up the dishes, as a post of honor; the duty is in- trusted to the relatives and intimates of. the happy pair. The bridegroom himself acts as head-butler, leading off the other servitors at the beginning of the feast, preceded by the rustic band, and carrying himself a plate of each delicacy to his bride, who sits enthroned at the head of the principal table. Drunken- ness too often mars the innocency and jollity of the night. The men~overdrink, as a matter of course. But tradition enjoins it upon the bridegroom to give an example of chaste so- briety, compelling him to refrain from the cup altogether. The principal table is decorated with such taste as the limits of rusticity per- mit; rude flags are hung here and there, and ribbons of various bright hues. At the head is a dais, with a high-hacked chair, hung with garlands; this is the brides seat. Around her is gathered a sort of rustic court circle, com- prising her female relatives and nearest friends no men are permitted near it. The Brides Feast continues for three successive days after the marriage. On the third day custom allows the bridegroom two notable privilegeshe is allowed to take a seat beside his bride on the dais, and he is allowed to drink ad libitum. At this third feast all restrictions are abandoned, and the orgy reaches its climax. The next day it becomes the duty of the fathers to pay the piper. The tradesmen assemble at an ap- pointed place with their bills, and then ensues a scene of haggling and beating down which nearly consumes the day. The remains of the Brides Feast are carefully collected, and, ac- cording to the ancient and praiseworthy cus- tom, distributed to the beggars and very poor of the neighborhood. These wretched creat- ures thereupon perform a sort of burlesque upon the feast, performing upon the green the Beg- gars Dancea grotesque travesty of the ga- vottetheir rags adding to the quaintness of the scene. The young couple are now ready to start in life. If their united dowries are adequate, they hire a farm, furnish it, and set to work at once upon its cultivation. Sometimes they as- sociate themselves with one of the fathers, help- ing him to manage his farm, and receiving, as payment, their support, with a prospect of in- heriting the farm at his death. A third plan is for the father to give up his farm to his son or son-in-law altogether (called cWrnission), aft- er agreeing that the young man shall support the old one during his life, and shall give him a certain part of each years farm products. The latter is, perhaps, the prevailing custom among the Breton peasants; and it is attended some- times with great evils. Parenticide some- times follows from it, the heir feeling the old man to be a burden, and thus gradually being wrought up to get rid of him. Often, again, the sad spectacle of a neglected and ill-used old manexisting on the barest necessities of life, starved by a slow and torturing proc- ess, despoiled of all, even filial respect, and lingering on despised by his childrenis to be seen. But the custom of ddnissions has also advantages. It is favorable to agriculture, as it replaces waning strength by the vigorous and ambitious energy of youth. It exchanges fresh sinews for stiff and feeble ones. In the custom of associated farming the advantages of energy and experience are united, and proper treatment secured to the elder. He is still in authority, regulating, deciding, dividing the profits between them., Eachfather and son has his special duties. The son takes charge of the flocks and herds; the father, the vine- LIFE IN BRITTANY. 37 yards and fields; the daughter-in-law, the dai- ry; the mother, the household affairs. But dis- putes arise in association; the accounts get muddled; one interferes with the domain of the other; and so ordeal by battle is a too frequent resort of settlement. Otherwise the notary or tailor is called in to decide the quar- rel. The custom of inheritance among the Bre- tons is curious. It is just the reverse of the law of primogeniture. The youngest succeeds to the paternal estate; if there are no sons, the youngest daughter succeeds. This rule prevails iu other parts of France; but Montesquieu, an excellent authority, refers its origin to Brittany. He adds that the reason of its existence is, that the peasants think it the best method of pre- serving family interests, as well as conducing to public utility. The example was set, cen- turies ago, by the great landed proprietors, whose lands, being vast, were divided among the older children during the lifetime of the father, while the youngest child remained at home to assist the old man; to him, therefore, naturally fell the remainder of the patrimony. At the present day the peasants (who are most- ly independent proprietors, if of ever so little) are accustomed to divide their little estates among their sons; so that the farms continue very small, and are only increased from gener- ation to generation by individual thrift. To return to the marriage customs. The bridegroom and bride do not cohabit for sev- eral nights after the religious rite; sometimes it is three days, sometimes not less than fifteen, before they do so. The first night is dedica- ted, by imperative tradition, to Le Boa .Dieu; the second, to La Sainte Vierge; the third, to St. Joseph; and so on, according to the lo- cality, night after night is dedicated to this or that holy personage, especially revered by the district or the family. When the time comes for the husband to join the wife, the female relatives of the latter attend her in the nuptial chamber, dress her in the wedding garments, and each, in order of sen- iority in age, gives her a lecture appropriate to the occasion. Meanwhile the groom is being admonished by the elders in another apartment. He is then conducted with great solemnity to the nuptial chamber. The relatives gather be- low stairs, and begin to pray loudly and fervent- ly for blessings on the wedded pair. Then rises a loud and solemn chant, Veni, Creator, in which all join. The chant is scarcely concluded when a boisterous procession of villagers invades the house. They bring with them a stretcher, holding a large bowl of milk soup. The bridal chamber is entered, the relatives hastea up, the soup is deposited at the side of the bed. The couple are bolstered up, and potations of the milk soup are administered to them amidst much merriment and many a joke. Bread is then forced upon them, and wine; and a new scene of noisy festivity ensues. The next day commences the regular routine of farm life. There are no honey-moons and blissful journeyings for the peasant bride and groom. He is up betimes, driving his horses or oxen afield; and she appears soon after, and forthwith enters upon her appropriate functions in the dairy. This marriage-time, however, in which a sort of temporary royalty is conferred upon the bride, turns the thoughts of the other peasant damsels to their own prospects. The pins which have fastened the brides dresses are precious talismans; those who secure and wear them are assured of a speedy marriage, and are relieved of the dread that they shall die viejiles Jules. At theJ~te of St. Jean, in June, bon- fires are lighted in all the villages throughout Brittany; and around these the peasantry are accustomed to dance and drink till far into the night. It is a legend that if a young girl visits and dances at nine of these bonfires before mid- night, she will be married within the year. As the task is neither a difficult nor a disagreeable one, probably all who wish are assured of con- nubial felicity. There are many miraculous fountains scattered through the country, which, on being questioned on matrimonial prospects, give compliant oracular responses. The waters of some of them are efficacious, according to the superstition, to ward off lightning, give milk to dry cows, and restore cross-eyes to a proper angle. To the superstitious simplicity of the Breton peasant Christmas-time is a time of wonders. On Christmas-eve there is vigil kept bytoth man and beast. When the clock sounds midnight, it is asserted that the cows are en- dowed with speech, and predict the future. This privilege the cows are supposed to owe to the chance which made their kind assist at the birth of Christ in the manger at Bethlehem. These are only a few of the host of super- stitions which excite the minds of the peasantry to fear and worship. Some have been handed down from remote times, from the age of the priest government of the Druids. Others have started, upon occasion, from extraordinary ac- cidents, to which the peasant mind has given a superstitious, unearthly significance. It is a land of ignorance and credulityof many time- hallowed, amusing, and suggestive customs; a land which knows or cares little of human prog- ress, and feels not at all, apparently, the on- rushing tide of modern civilization. In connection with this subject it is worth while to give some account ofa Breton pilgrim- age. M. Jules Bretons interesting and highly characteristic picture of a grand Breton par- don, of which we give a copy in our engrav- ing on page 38, will serve as a general rep- resentation of those striking religious cere- monies, which necessarily have a good deal in common, and are among the most pictur- esque pageants of modern times. The two principal Breton pilgrimages are those of St. Anne of Auray and Guinganip. The former goes on all through the summer, although Whit- suntide and the f& e-day of the patron saint are the occasions which attract the greatest multi- tude of devotees; whereas the latter is limited 38 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. a a a a 0 a a to the Saturday preceding the first Sunday in reverence, and who are prohably as simple- July, when the procession takes place, and to a min(led and superstitious as any in Europe. couple of days or so following. The Breton lacking the ardent imaginations of the Southern saints are of a homely sort. The miracles they races. Even so far hack as the year 1623, are reported to have performed are not partic- when St. Anne of Anray first came into notice, ularly marvelous, which is, perhaps, accounted all that is pretended to have happened was a for hy the peasantry who hold them in such vision to an ignorant peasant, whose pastor LIFE IN BRITTANY. 39 thought him crazed, as he no doubt was, but whose bishop patronized him; following upon which a broken statue was found in a certain field, and attracted pilgrims from far and near, who left behind them offerings sufficient to build a chapel in which the relic might be enshrined, but which, in later times, has been replaced, it seems, by a new building. Pilgrims come from one end of Brittany to the other to the shrine of St. Anne, not merely barefooted, as of old, but packed in third-class railway carriages; for, from the month of June until the end of September, the company of the Chemin de Fer de lOuest issue cheap return- tickets from all stations on their line. The pil- grims come singly and in companies, and sowe- times an entire family will make the journey the aged supported by the more stalwart, and the mother carrying her new-born child. Sail- ors, too, in pursuance of some vow made in time of peril, will proceed thither, barefooted and bareheaded, from the point of the coast where they chanced to be cast ashore. The in- habitants of the Isle Dien are not deterred by the sixty leagues which they have to traverse from paying annual homage to St. Anne. The sailors of the commune of Arzon, at the extrem- ity of the peninsula of Rhins, in memory of a vow made by their fathers during a naval com- bat they were engaged in with the Dutch, come regularly to the shrine every Whit-Monday. They embark, with their wives and children, at Port Navalo, on board luggers with red sails, having at the head of the flotilla a richly decked vessel, in which are the clergy of the parish in charge of a massive silver crucifix. On the same day there arrive by land processions from all the neighboring, and even from far-distant parishes, preceded by crucifixes, the banners of their patron saints, and the flags of their com- munes. Ladies of high birth and delicate frames are said not nufrequently to accompany these bands, followed by their carriages, the use of which they rigidly deny themselves ex- cept to return home in. So soon as the tower of the chapel is discerned in the distance the pilgrims fall upon their knees, and subsequently continue the journey in silence, with their chap- lets in their hands. As they draw nigh the immense open sp aded by chestnut-trees, that conducts to iraculous fountain and the building which ntains the object of their adoration, the different bands of pilgrims, min- gling together, present a curious spectacle in their varied and picturesque costumes, in which, as in their language, centuries of civilization have wrought scarcely any change. Reciting their prayers, numbers will congre- gate round the fountain, of whom many will dip their faces, hands, and feet in the water which flows into the smaller basins, while others will drink of it at its principal source. The more fatigued will repose themselves on the steps of the surrounding amphitheatre, while long files of ardent pilgrims continue their weary march round the chapel walls and under the cloistered galleries, bareheaded, and carrying lighted ta- pers in their hands. Some will even, by way of penance, make the circuit on their knees, and slowly mount the numerous steps of what is termed the Scala Sancta, and kiss the feet of the statues at its suWmit. As soon as the sun has risen on the morning of Saturday the narrow, tortuous streets of the old town of Guingamp are crowded with pil- grims, come to perform their devotions at the shrine of Notre Dame de Bon Secours, and to take part in the evening procession in her honor. Many have journeyed thither on foot and from long distances, that have required two or three days to accomplish, while some thousands had arrived by the railway from all parts of Brit- tany. The town is enf& e. In the various open spaces booths are erected, at which, besides eatables of different kinds, some few useful and many useless articles are exposed for sale, in- cluding an endless number of pictures and im- ages of Our Lady of Good Help, and of such saints as are especially dear to the Breton peas- ant, together with crucifixes, chaplets, charms; and candles of all dimensions. The Pardon of Guingamp, according to the local historians, traces back its origin to the remotest antiquity; and, save during the inter- regnum of the Revolution, they assert it has always gathered together a considerable multi- tude of the devout; still, it is only within the last few years that the image of the Virgin, the ol~ect of all this homage, has been awarded a crown by his Holiness the Pope, and has there- by assumed a rank to which she was not entitled before. To a stranger the assemblage which the celebration of the pardon brings together presents many points of interest. These dense crowds enable him to study no end of varieties of the Breton type, in all the diversity of the Armonican costume; the men with their broad- brim hats, with velvet streamers fluttering be- hind, and their long matted hair falling over their shoulders and down their backs; their large stand-up shirt-collars; their short jackets, trimmed with velvet, and more or less embroid- ered; their waistcoats, covered with 4ouble rows of bright metal buttons, placed quite close together; their knee-breeches and tightly fit- ting leggings, the latter ornamented with more gilt buttons at the ankle; their embroidered leather belts, their huge wooden sabots, and their pilgrims staves. The women, too, are not less interesting in the whitest and quaintest of caps, an endless variety of shape, and occasion- ally of the richest lace, in their bright-colored bodices or shawl neckerchiefs, their silk aprons, their sober-tinted gowns, and with their chap- lets invariably in their hands. The more devout pilgrims first of all betake themselves to the chapel of Our Lady of Good Help, whose statue surmounting the altar is magnificently robed in gold~and-silver-embrOid- ered blue and white satin, just as the chapel it- self is decorated with flags and flowers, and festoons of colored lamps, for the occasion. 40 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Some few pilgrims will make offerings at her shrine; but the majority appear to content themselves with burning a candle in her honor at an adjacent circular frame erected for the purpose, while, kneeling pell-mell on the stone pavement, and sadlvjostlet~by the curious, they go through their appointed prayers. But not only is this side chapel crowded; the church itselfhung from one end to the other with banners, its altars all decorated with flowers, its sacramental plate, its relics, and its ornaments of all kinds exposedis packed so thickly with kneeling pilgrims that the passage from one end to the other is rendered extremely difficult. Leaving the church, many of the more weary pilgrims betake themselves at once to the quaint metal fountain in the adjoining place, sur- mounted by a statue of the Virgin, with a large wreath of newly gathered flowers encircling her head, and a large houquet in her hand. Con- gregated round about are a dozen or niore old women with little earthenware howls, which they fill with water and offer to all comers to drink of; and even to lave their faces, hands, and feet in. Their ablutions over, the more austere pilgrims will content themselves with strolling abstractedly through the town until evening sets in and vespers are about to com- mence; while others kill the intervening time at the various shows, in the cider-booths, or in risking their sons and francs at one or the oth- er games of chance that tempt them on every hand. The church bells toll for vespers; crowds of men and women, each provided with a wax taper, struggle through the streets to the en- trance of the edifice, the steps of which are lined with cripples, feeble old men and wo- men, and beggars of a sturdy type, got up to present as repulsive an appearance as possible. The church, which is brilliantly lit up, is crowd- ed in every part. The service terminated, pre- cisely at nine oclock the hells begin to chime, and then to toll a monotonous peal, while most of the houses in the town are being illuminated, and the head of the processioncomposed of men and women mingled together indiscrim- inately, the half-wild-looking Bas-Breton every now and then alternating with some charming- looking demoiselle whose toilet is after the latest modeis seen descending the flight of steps in front of the north door of the church, preceded by a priest bearing the cross. A troop of cavalry, stationed immediately opposite, sa- lutes the sacred symbol; and for a quarter of an hour pilgrims, all with lighted tapers in their hands, and the men with their heads bare, continue descending the steps in double file. While these are passing out at the north door, another detachment of pilgrims, also in double file, and similarly provided with lighted tapers, is leaving the church by the west. The two detachments proceed in opposite directions the one moving toward the upper, the other to the lower end of the town. At the expiration of the quarter of an hour just spoken of, the ornamental portion of the procession is seen to emerge from the north door of the church, con- sisting, first of all, of some young and rather pretty girls, robed entirely in white, and car- rying the silk-embroidered banner of the Vir- gin; then more girls and banners, followed by the members of various female religious com- munities, in the costumes of their order, bear- ing their respective banners; next come sev- eral small gilt statuettes, carried on handsome stands, one of which represents St. Fiacre, the patron saint of the gardeners, and another St. Joseph, the patron saint of the carpenters. Then follow richly gilt caskets containing va- rious relics, borne by and surrounded by priests; a gold bust, with a long forked beard; a wax figure of a dead child in white, her head wreathed with lilies, lying on a purple cushion covered with a crimson pall, and preceded and followed by banners innumerable. Then a number of men and boys dressed up to repre- sent sailors, and bearing a couple of models of men-of-war of the old school, and a huge gilt anchor; then some of the youths of the col- lege, accompanied by their band; next a num- ber of men with banners and large ornamental open-work lanterns; then the sapeurs pompiers and their band; and, finally, a body of priests in rich vestments. The two detachments of pilgrims eventually join themselves together, and the processi6n, composed at this time of at least 10,000 people, passes up the main street of the town and round the large triangular place where the fountain is situated, chanting all the while. Here three tall poles have been erected, surrounded by banners in honor of the Virgin, and having immense piles of fagots stacked at their base. While the procession is moving round this open space in the direc- tion of the church these stacks of fagots are set fire to, one after the other, filling the air above with fiery sparks, as the ground is already thronged below with lighted tapers, and throw- ing out such intense heat in their immediate proximity as to cause pilgrims and spectators alike to struggle to escape from it. Such are the aspects of a Breton Pilgrimage or Pardon as seen at Guingamp. A VJ~ Tns hands of my watch point to midnight, My fire burns low; But my pulse runs like the morning, My heart all aglow. My darling, my maiden, is nested And wrapped from the chill, And slumber lies down on her eyelids, Pure, light, and still; She needs not the watch-care of angels To keep off fear and ill. The throbbing of her heart is ever A sweet, virgin prayer; The thoughts of her heart, like incense, Fill the chaste and silent air; And how can evil, or fear of it, Enter in there?

S. S. Conant Conant, S. S. A Vigil 40

40 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Some few pilgrims will make offerings at her shrine; but the majority appear to content themselves with burning a candle in her honor at an adjacent circular frame erected for the purpose, while, kneeling pell-mell on the stone pavement, and sadlvjostlet~by the curious, they go through their appointed prayers. But not only is this side chapel crowded; the church itselfhung from one end to the other with banners, its altars all decorated with flowers, its sacramental plate, its relics, and its ornaments of all kinds exposedis packed so thickly with kneeling pilgrims that the passage from one end to the other is rendered extremely difficult. Leaving the church, many of the more weary pilgrims betake themselves at once to the quaint metal fountain in the adjoining place, sur- mounted by a statue of the Virgin, with a large wreath of newly gathered flowers encircling her head, and a large houquet in her hand. Con- gregated round about are a dozen or niore old women with little earthenware howls, which they fill with water and offer to all comers to drink of; and even to lave their faces, hands, and feet in. Their ablutions over, the more austere pilgrims will content themselves with strolling abstractedly through the town until evening sets in and vespers are about to com- mence; while others kill the intervening time at the various shows, in the cider-booths, or in risking their sons and francs at one or the oth- er games of chance that tempt them on every hand. The church bells toll for vespers; crowds of men and women, each provided with a wax taper, struggle through the streets to the en- trance of the edifice, the steps of which are lined with cripples, feeble old men and wo- men, and beggars of a sturdy type, got up to present as repulsive an appearance as possible. The church, which is brilliantly lit up, is crowd- ed in every part. The service terminated, pre- cisely at nine oclock the hells begin to chime, and then to toll a monotonous peal, while most of the houses in the town are being illuminated, and the head of the processioncomposed of men and women mingled together indiscrim- inately, the half-wild-looking Bas-Breton every now and then alternating with some charming- looking demoiselle whose toilet is after the latest modeis seen descending the flight of steps in front of the north door of the church, preceded by a priest bearing the cross. A troop of cavalry, stationed immediately opposite, sa- lutes the sacred symbol; and for a quarter of an hour pilgrims, all with lighted tapers in their hands, and the men with their heads bare, continue descending the steps in double file. While these are passing out at the north door, another detachment of pilgrims, also in double file, and similarly provided with lighted tapers, is leaving the church by the west. The two detachments proceed in opposite directions the one moving toward the upper, the other to the lower end of the town. At the expiration of the quarter of an hour just spoken of, the ornamental portion of the procession is seen to emerge from the north door of the church, con- sisting, first of all, of some young and rather pretty girls, robed entirely in white, and car- rying the silk-embroidered banner of the Vir- gin; then more girls and banners, followed by the members of various female religious com- munities, in the costumes of their order, bear- ing their respective banners; next come sev- eral small gilt statuettes, carried on handsome stands, one of which represents St. Fiacre, the patron saint of the gardeners, and another St. Joseph, the patron saint of the carpenters. Then follow richly gilt caskets containing va- rious relics, borne by and surrounded by priests; a gold bust, with a long forked beard; a wax figure of a dead child in white, her head wreathed with lilies, lying on a purple cushion covered with a crimson pall, and preceded and followed by banners innumerable. Then a number of men and boys dressed up to repre- sent sailors, and bearing a couple of models of men-of-war of the old school, and a huge gilt anchor; then some of the youths of the col- lege, accompanied by their band; next a num- ber of men with banners and large ornamental open-work lanterns; then the sapeurs pompiers and their band; and, finally, a body of priests in rich vestments. The two detachments of pilgrims eventually join themselves together, and the processi6n, composed at this time of at least 10,000 people, passes up the main street of the town and round the large triangular place where the fountain is situated, chanting all the while. Here three tall poles have been erected, surrounded by banners in honor of the Virgin, and having immense piles of fagots stacked at their base. While the procession is moving round this open space in the direc- tion of the church these stacks of fagots are set fire to, one after the other, filling the air above with fiery sparks, as the ground is already thronged below with lighted tapers, and throw- ing out such intense heat in their immediate proximity as to cause pilgrims and spectators alike to struggle to escape from it. Such are the aspects of a Breton Pilgrimage or Pardon as seen at Guingamp. A VJ~ Tns hands of my watch point to midnight, My fire burns low; But my pulse runs like the morning, My heart all aglow. My darling, my maiden, is nested And wrapped from the chill, And slumber lies down on her eyelids, Pure, light, and still; She needs not the watch-care of angels To keep off fear and ill. The throbbing of her heart is ever A sweet, virgin prayer; The thoughts of her heart, like incense, Fill the chaste and silent air; And how can evil, or fear of it, Enter in there?

S. S. Conant Conant, S. S. A Vigil 40-41

40 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Some few pilgrims will make offerings at her shrine; but the majority appear to content themselves with burning a candle in her honor at an adjacent circular frame erected for the purpose, while, kneeling pell-mell on the stone pavement, and sadlvjostlet~by the curious, they go through their appointed prayers. But not only is this side chapel crowded; the church itselfhung from one end to the other with banners, its altars all decorated with flowers, its sacramental plate, its relics, and its ornaments of all kinds exposedis packed so thickly with kneeling pilgrims that the passage from one end to the other is rendered extremely difficult. Leaving the church, many of the more weary pilgrims betake themselves at once to the quaint metal fountain in the adjoining place, sur- mounted by a statue of the Virgin, with a large wreath of newly gathered flowers encircling her head, and a large houquet in her hand. Con- gregated round about are a dozen or niore old women with little earthenware howls, which they fill with water and offer to all comers to drink of; and even to lave their faces, hands, and feet in. Their ablutions over, the more austere pilgrims will content themselves with strolling abstractedly through the town until evening sets in and vespers are about to com- mence; while others kill the intervening time at the various shows, in the cider-booths, or in risking their sons and francs at one or the oth- er games of chance that tempt them on every hand. The church bells toll for vespers; crowds of men and women, each provided with a wax taper, struggle through the streets to the en- trance of the edifice, the steps of which are lined with cripples, feeble old men and wo- men, and beggars of a sturdy type, got up to present as repulsive an appearance as possible. The church, which is brilliantly lit up, is crowd- ed in every part. The service terminated, pre- cisely at nine oclock the hells begin to chime, and then to toll a monotonous peal, while most of the houses in the town are being illuminated, and the head of the processioncomposed of men and women mingled together indiscrim- inately, the half-wild-looking Bas-Breton every now and then alternating with some charming- looking demoiselle whose toilet is after the latest modeis seen descending the flight of steps in front of the north door of the church, preceded by a priest bearing the cross. A troop of cavalry, stationed immediately opposite, sa- lutes the sacred symbol; and for a quarter of an hour pilgrims, all with lighted tapers in their hands, and the men with their heads bare, continue descending the steps in double file. While these are passing out at the north door, another detachment of pilgrims, also in double file, and similarly provided with lighted tapers, is leaving the church by the west. The two detachments proceed in opposite directions the one moving toward the upper, the other to the lower end of the town. At the expiration of the quarter of an hour just spoken of, the ornamental portion of the procession is seen to emerge from the north door of the church, con- sisting, first of all, of some young and rather pretty girls, robed entirely in white, and car- rying the silk-embroidered banner of the Vir- gin; then more girls and banners, followed by the members of various female religious com- munities, in the costumes of their order, bear- ing their respective banners; next come sev- eral small gilt statuettes, carried on handsome stands, one of which represents St. Fiacre, the patron saint of the gardeners, and another St. Joseph, the patron saint of the carpenters. Then follow richly gilt caskets containing va- rious relics, borne by and surrounded by priests; a gold bust, with a long forked beard; a wax figure of a dead child in white, her head wreathed with lilies, lying on a purple cushion covered with a crimson pall, and preceded and followed by banners innumerable. Then a number of men and boys dressed up to repre- sent sailors, and bearing a couple of models of men-of-war of the old school, and a huge gilt anchor; then some of the youths of the col- lege, accompanied by their band; next a num- ber of men with banners and large ornamental open-work lanterns; then the sapeurs pompiers and their band; and, finally, a body of priests in rich vestments. The two detachments of pilgrims eventually join themselves together, and the processi6n, composed at this time of at least 10,000 people, passes up the main street of the town and round the large triangular place where the fountain is situated, chanting all the while. Here three tall poles have been erected, surrounded by banners in honor of the Virgin, and having immense piles of fagots stacked at their base. While the procession is moving round this open space in the direc- tion of the church these stacks of fagots are set fire to, one after the other, filling the air above with fiery sparks, as the ground is already thronged below with lighted tapers, and throw- ing out such intense heat in their immediate proximity as to cause pilgrims and spectators alike to struggle to escape from it. Such are the aspects of a Breton Pilgrimage or Pardon as seen at Guingamp. A VJ~ Tns hands of my watch point to midnight, My fire burns low; But my pulse runs like the morning, My heart all aglow. My darling, my maiden, is nested And wrapped from the chill, And slumber lies down on her eyelids, Pure, light, and still; She needs not the watch-care of angels To keep off fear and ill. The throbbing of her heart is ever A sweet, virgin prayer; The thoughts of her heart, like incense, Fill the chaste and silent air; And how can evil, or fear of it, Enter in there? FREDERICK THE GREAT. 41 FREDERICK THE GREAT. XIII.THE SEVEN YEARS WAR; ITS The king of Prussia had an army of two hun-. COMMENCEMENT. dred thousand men, under perfect discipline. lIT E now enter upon the third Silesian war, The old Dessaner was dead, hut many veteran VVusually termed in history The Seven generals were in command. It was manifest Years War. For four years Frederick had that war would soon hurst forth. In addition heen aware that a coalition was secretly forming to the personal pique of the duchess of Pompa- against him. Maria Theresa wished, with ar- dor which had never for one moment abated, to regain Silesia. All the other European powers, without exception, desired to curb Frederick, whose ambition they feared. They were well aware that he was taking advantage of a few years of peace to replenish his treasury, and to enlarge his army for new conquests. As we have before stated, Frederick, by bribery, had fully informed himself of the secret arrange- ments into which Austria, Russia, Poland, and other powers were entering for the dismember- ment of his realms. It is in vain to attempt to unravel the intricacies of the diplomacy which ensued. England,while endeavoring to subsidize Rus- sia against~ Frederick, entered secretly into a sort of alliance with Frederick, hoping thus to save Hanover. The empress Elizabeth of Rus- sia heartily united with Maria Theresa against Frederick, whom she personally disliked, and whose encroachments she dreaded. His Prus- sian majesty, proud of his powers of sarcasm, in his poems spared neither friend nor foe. He had written some very severe things against the Russian empress, which bad reached her ears. Frederick was in great perplexity. ro wait for his enemies to complete their arrangements, and to commence the attack at their leisure, placed him at great disadvantage. To begin the attack himselg and thus to open anew the flood-gates of war, would increase the hostility with which the nations were regarding hi!n. As the diplomacy of the foreign cabinets had been secret, he would universally be regarded as the a ressor. England was Fredericks only all~a treacherous ally, influenced not by sympathy forFrederick, but by hatred of France, and by fear of the loss of Hanover. The Brit- ish cabinet would abandon Prussia the first mo- ment it should see it to be for its interest to do so. 1 In a letter which the prince of Prussia, Augustus William, wrote to the king, remonstrating against those encroachments which were arraying all Europe against him, he says: Russia is persuaded that your designs upon her occasioned the applications which you have made to the court of Vienna to substitute a truce of two years in room of a solemn treaty of peace. She believes that you wanted to tie up the hands of the empress queen so as to put it out of her power to succor her ally; that a war against Russia was the principal object of your intrigues in Sweden; that you have designs upon Courland; that Polish Prussia and Pomerania would he very convenient to you; and that you find Russia the greatest obstacle to this rounding of your dominions. In short, she believes that she has the same interest in your abasement as the house of Austria.Vie cle Fr~d~rie IL, Roi cle Prusse,t. h.p. 1118. dour, who really ruled France, Louis XV. was greatly exasperated by the secret alliance into which Frederick had entered with England. The brother of the Prussian king, Augustus William, the heir-apparent to the throne, disap- proved of this alliance. He said to the French minister, Valori, I would give a finger from my hand had it never been concluded. In July, 1756, Frederick, for forms sake, in- quired, through his embassador at Vienna, why Maria Theresa was making such formidable mil- itary preparations. At the same time he con- ferred with two of his leading generals, Schwerin and Retzow, if it would not be better, since it was certain that Austria and Russia would soon declare war, to anticipate them by an attack upon Austria. The opinion of both, which was in perfect accord with that of the king, was that. it was best immediately to ~eize upon Saxony, and in that rich and fertile country to gather magazines, and make it the base for operations in ]~ohemia. A spy was sent to Saxony, who reported that there were but twenty thousand troops there. All necessary information was promptly and se- cretly obtained in reference to roads and for- tresses. It required three weeks to receive an answer from Vienna. The reply was evasive, as Frederick knew that it would be. In the mean time his Prussian majesty, with charac- teristic energy, had mustered on the frontier an army nnmbering in the aggregate nearly one hundred and fifty thousand men. These troops, in three divisions, with two thousand pieces of artillery, were to make a rush npon Saxony. Among the directions given by Frederick to the leaders of these divisions were the following: Each regiment shall take hut one baggage- cart for a company. No officer, whoever he may be or whatever his title, shall take with him the least of silver plate, not even a silver spoon. Whoever wants to keep table, great or small, must manage the same with tin utensils, without exception, be he who he will. On the 25th of August, 1756, the king wrote from Potsdam, to his brother, the prince of Prussia, and his sister Amelia, who were at Berlin, as follows: Mv DEAR BROTHER, MY DEAR SIsTER, I write you both at once for want of time. I have as yet received no answer from Vienna. I shall not get it till to-morrow. But I count myself surer of war than ever, as the Austrians have named their generals, and their army is ordered to march to Koniggriitz. So that, ex- pecting nothing else but a haughty answer; or a

Frederick the Great 41-55

FREDERICK THE GREAT. 41 FREDERICK THE GREAT. XIII.THE SEVEN YEARS WAR; ITS The king of Prussia had an army of two hun-. COMMENCEMENT. dred thousand men, under perfect discipline. lIT E now enter upon the third Silesian war, The old Dessaner was dead, hut many veteran VVusually termed in history The Seven generals were in command. It was manifest Years War. For four years Frederick had that war would soon hurst forth. In addition heen aware that a coalition was secretly forming to the personal pique of the duchess of Pompa- against him. Maria Theresa wished, with ar- dor which had never for one moment abated, to regain Silesia. All the other European powers, without exception, desired to curb Frederick, whose ambition they feared. They were well aware that he was taking advantage of a few years of peace to replenish his treasury, and to enlarge his army for new conquests. As we have before stated, Frederick, by bribery, had fully informed himself of the secret arrange- ments into which Austria, Russia, Poland, and other powers were entering for the dismember- ment of his realms. It is in vain to attempt to unravel the intricacies of the diplomacy which ensued. England,while endeavoring to subsidize Rus- sia against~ Frederick, entered secretly into a sort of alliance with Frederick, hoping thus to save Hanover. The empress Elizabeth of Rus- sia heartily united with Maria Theresa against Frederick, whom she personally disliked, and whose encroachments she dreaded. His Prus- sian majesty, proud of his powers of sarcasm, in his poems spared neither friend nor foe. He had written some very severe things against the Russian empress, which bad reached her ears. Frederick was in great perplexity. ro wait for his enemies to complete their arrangements, and to commence the attack at their leisure, placed him at great disadvantage. To begin the attack himselg and thus to open anew the flood-gates of war, would increase the hostility with which the nations were regarding hi!n. As the diplomacy of the foreign cabinets had been secret, he would universally be regarded as the a ressor. England was Fredericks only all~a treacherous ally, influenced not by sympathy forFrederick, but by hatred of France, and by fear of the loss of Hanover. The Brit- ish cabinet would abandon Prussia the first mo- ment it should see it to be for its interest to do so. 1 In a letter which the prince of Prussia, Augustus William, wrote to the king, remonstrating against those encroachments which were arraying all Europe against him, he says: Russia is persuaded that your designs upon her occasioned the applications which you have made to the court of Vienna to substitute a truce of two years in room of a solemn treaty of peace. She believes that you wanted to tie up the hands of the empress queen so as to put it out of her power to succor her ally; that a war against Russia was the principal object of your intrigues in Sweden; that you have designs upon Courland; that Polish Prussia and Pomerania would he very convenient to you; and that you find Russia the greatest obstacle to this rounding of your dominions. In short, she believes that she has the same interest in your abasement as the house of Austria.Vie cle Fr~d~rie IL, Roi cle Prusse,t. h.p. 1118. dour, who really ruled France, Louis XV. was greatly exasperated by the secret alliance into which Frederick had entered with England. The brother of the Prussian king, Augustus William, the heir-apparent to the throne, disap- proved of this alliance. He said to the French minister, Valori, I would give a finger from my hand had it never been concluded. In July, 1756, Frederick, for forms sake, in- quired, through his embassador at Vienna, why Maria Theresa was making such formidable mil- itary preparations. At the same time he con- ferred with two of his leading generals, Schwerin and Retzow, if it would not be better, since it was certain that Austria and Russia would soon declare war, to anticipate them by an attack upon Austria. The opinion of both, which was in perfect accord with that of the king, was that. it was best immediately to ~eize upon Saxony, and in that rich and fertile country to gather magazines, and make it the base for operations in ]~ohemia. A spy was sent to Saxony, who reported that there were but twenty thousand troops there. All necessary information was promptly and se- cretly obtained in reference to roads and for- tresses. It required three weeks to receive an answer from Vienna. The reply was evasive, as Frederick knew that it would be. In the mean time his Prussian majesty, with charac- teristic energy, had mustered on the frontier an army nnmbering in the aggregate nearly one hundred and fifty thousand men. These troops, in three divisions, with two thousand pieces of artillery, were to make a rush npon Saxony. Among the directions given by Frederick to the leaders of these divisions were the following: Each regiment shall take hut one baggage- cart for a company. No officer, whoever he may be or whatever his title, shall take with him the least of silver plate, not even a silver spoon. Whoever wants to keep table, great or small, must manage the same with tin utensils, without exception, be he who he will. On the 25th of August, 1756, the king wrote from Potsdam, to his brother, the prince of Prussia, and his sister Amelia, who were at Berlin, as follows: Mv DEAR BROTHER, MY DEAR SIsTER, I write you both at once for want of time. I have as yet received no answer from Vienna. I shall not get it till to-morrow. But I count myself surer of war than ever, as the Austrians have named their generals, and their army is ordered to march to Koniggriitz. So that, ex- pecting nothing else but a haughty answer; or a 42 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. very uncertain one, on which there will be no reliance possible, I have arranged every thing for setting ont on Saturday next. Upon the ensuing day, having received the answer from Vienna, he wrote to his brother: You have seen the paper I have sent to Vienna. Their answer is, that they have not made an offensive alliance with Russia against me. Of the assurance that I required there is not one word, so that the sword alone can cut this Gordian knot. I am innocent of this war. I have done what I could to avoid it. But whatever he ones love of peace one can not, and one must not, sacrifice to that safety and honor. At present our one thought must be to wage war in such a way as may cure our enemies of their wish to break peace again too soon. On Saturday morning, August 28, 1756, the Prussian army, over one hundred thousand strong, entered Saxony at three different points on the northern frontier. Frederick, with about sixty thousand troops, crossed the Elbe at Tor- gan, and seized upon Leipsic. Duke Ferdi- nand, of Hanover, led his columns across the frontier about eighty miles to the right. The duke of Brunswick-Bevern crossed about the same distance to the left. Each column was stronger than the whole Saxon army. The ap- pointed place of rendezvous for the three divi- sions was the city of Dresden, the capital of Saxony. By the route marked out each col- umn had a distance of about one hundred and fifty miles to traverse. Thus, writes Voltaire, Frederick invad- ed Saxony under the pretense of friendship, and that he might make war upon Maria The- resa with the money of which he should rob the Saxons. Not a soldier appeared to oppose the invad- ers. The Prussians seized, in march, all the most important Saxon towns and fortresses. The king of Poland and his court, with less than twenty thousand troops, had fled from the capital up the river, which here runs from the south to Pirna, where they concen- trated their feeble army, which numbered but eighteen thousand men. Frederick, with his re- sistless column, entered Dresden on the 9th of September. The queen had remained in the palace. The keys of the archives were de- manded of her. She refused to surrender them. The officers proceeded to break open the door. The queen placed herself before the door. Thc officers, shrinking from using personal violence, sent to Frederick for instructions. He ordered them to force the archives, whatever opposition the queen, in person, might present. The queen, to avoid a rude assault, withdrew. The door was forced and the archives seized. The king found, writes Voltaire, testi- monies of the dread which he had occasioned. The queen died soon after, of grief. ~Ail Eu- rope pitied that unfortunate family. ~ But in the course of those public calamities millions of families experienced hardships not less great, though more obscure. Thus was commenced the Seven Years War. It proved one of the most bloody and cruel strifes which man has ever waged against his brother man. Through its terrible scenes of conflagration, blood, and despair, Frederick ob- tained the renown of being one of the ablest generals who ever marshaled armies upon fields of blood. His Polish majesty had placed his feeble band of troops in the vicinity of Pirna, on the Elbe, amidst the defiles of a mountainous country, where they could easily defend themselves against superior numbers. Winter was rapid- ly approaching. In those high latitudes and 1 Age of Louis xv;, chapter xxxii. vuz INVASION OF SAXONY. FREDERICK THE GREAT. 43 among those bleak hills the storms of winter ever raged with terrible severity. The Aus- trians were energetically accumulating their forces in Bohemia to act against the Prussians. The invasion of Saxony by Frederick, without any apparent provocation, roused all Europe to intensity of hatred and of action. His Prussian majesty carefully examined the position of the Saxons. They were in a region of precipices and chasms, broken into a laby- rinth of sky-piercing and craggy rocks. The eminences, in some cases, rose two thousand feet, and were covered with pine forests. There is no stronger position in the world, Frede- rick writes. All these passes were fortified, mile after mile, by batteries, ramparts, palisades, and abattis. But the Saxon troops, taken tin- awares, had but a small supply of provisions. Frederick decided to block every entrance to their encampment, and thus to starve them out. His Polish majesty sent frantic cries to France and Austria for help. Frederick was assailed with the title of the Prussian robber. The dauphiness of France was daughter of the king of Poland. With tears she craved protection for her parents. The duchess of Pompadour was anxious to show her gratitude to Maria Theresa, who had condescended to address ber as a cousin and a dear sister. A French army of one hundred thousand men was soon on the march to aid Austria in the liberation of Saxony. At the same time an Austrian army of sixty thousand men, under marshal Browne, was advancing rapidly from Bohemia to penetrate the fastuesses of the mountains for the release of the Polish king. On Friday, the 1st of October, 1756, the Prussian army under Frederick, leaving the Saxons besieged in their encampment, marched up the river to meet the foe advancing to the aid of the Saxons. They encountered the Austrians, under marshal Browne, at Lobositz, about thirty miles south of Pirna. A terrible battle of seven hours duration ensued. The opposing generals were of nearly equal ability. The soldiers were equal in courage. The car- nage of the bloody conflict was almost equal on either side. The desperation of the Prus- sian assault was resistless. Bayonet often crossed bayonet. The Austrians were driven from their strong position into the city. The Prussians laid the city in ashes. As the Aus- trians fled from the blazing streets many, endeavoring to swim across the Elbe, were drowned. At the close of this bloody strife general Browne withdrew his army to the rear, where he still presented a defiant front to the Prussians. Re had lost from his ranks, in killed and wounded, two thousand nine hun- dred and eighty-four. The loss of Frederick was still greater; it numbered three thousand three hundred and eight. Neither party would confess to a defeat. Never have my troops, writes Frederick, done such miracles of valor, cavalry as well as infantry, since I had the honor to command them. By this dead-lift achievement I have seen what they can do. The Prussiafis remained at Lobositz nearly a fortnight, to see if marshal Browne would again attempt to force the defiles. The Saxon troops, for whose relief the Austrians were ad- vancing, were about thirty miles farther north, on the south, or left, bank of the Elbe. The news of the repulse of marshal Browne at Lobositz fell disastrously upon their starving ranks. Maria Theresa was much distressed. She sent a messenger to her Austrian general to relieve the Saxons at whatever cost. A confidential messenger was dispatched through the mountains to the Saxon camp, which he reached in safety. He informed his Polish majesty that marshal Browne, with a. picked force of eight thousand, horse and foot, would march by a circuitous route of sixty miles, so as to approach Pirna from the northeast, where but a small Prussian force was stationed. He would be there without fail on the 11th of Au- gust. The Saxons were directed to cross the Elbe, by a sudden and unexpected march at K6nig- stein, a few miles from Pirna. Immediately upon effecting the passage of the river they were to fire two cannon as a signal that the feat was accomplished. The Saxon and Aus- trian troops were then to form a junction, and co-operate in crushing the few Prussian bands which were left there as a guard. The Saxon troops would thus be rescued from the trap in which they were inclosed, and from the famine which was devouring them. Marshal Browne skillI y and successfully performed his part of the adventure. But there was no efficient co-operation by the Sax- ons. The men were weak, emaciate, and per- ishing from hunger. Their sinews of exer- tion were paralyzed. The skeleton horses could not draw the wagons or the guns. To add to their embarrassment, a raging storm of wind and rain burst upon the camp. The roads were converted into quagmires. The night was pitch - dark as the Saxons, about fourteen thousand in number, drenched with rain and groping through time mud, abandoned their camp and endeavored to steal their way BATTLE OF LOBO5ITZ, oc~ouzii 1, 1756. a a. Pr sian Infantry. 5. Cavalry. c c. Artillery. ci d. A strian Army. 44 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. across the river. The watchful Prussians de- tected the movement. A scene of confusion, terror, slaughter ensued, which it is in vain to endeavor to describe. The weeping skies and moaning winds indicated natures sympathy with these scenes of woe. Still the unhappy Saxons struggled ou heroically. After seven- ty hours of toilsome marching and despairing conflict these unhappy peasant lads, the vic- tims of kingly pride, were compelled to sur- render at discretion. Marshal Browne, find- ing the enterprise au utter failure, rapidly re- turned to the main body of his army. Frederick w~ts much embarrassed in deciding what to do with his captives. They numbered about fourteen thousand. To guard and feed them was too troublesome and expensive. They could not be exchanged, as the king of Poland had no Prussian prisoners. To set them at lib- erty would speedily place them in the Austrian ranks to fight against him. Under these cii- cumstances, Frederick compelled them all to enlist as Prussian soldiers. He compelled them to do this voluntarily, for they had their choice either to enlist under his banners or to starve. The king of Poland was permitted to return to Warsaw. The electorate of Saxony, nearly as large as the State of Massachusetts, and con- taining a population of one and a half millions~ was annexed to Prussia. The captured sol- diers, prisoners of war, were dressed in Prus- sian uniform, commanded by Prussian officers, and either placed in garrison or in the ranks of the army in the field. The public voice of Eu- rope condemned Frederick very severely for so unprecedented an act. Think of the sounds, writes Carlyle, ut- tered from human windpipes, shrill with rage, some of them, hoarse others with ditto; of the vituperations, execrations, printed and vocal grating harsh thunder upon Frederick and this new course of his. Huge melody of discords, shrieking, groaning, grinding on that topic through the afflicted universe in general. Voltaire embraced the opportunity of giving vent to his malice in epigrams and lampoons. Frederick was by no means insensible to pub- lic opinion. But he was ever willing to brave that opinion if by so doing he could accomplish his ambitious ends. After this signal achievement his Prussian majesty established his army in winter-quarters along the banks of the Elbe. He took up his abode in the palace of Dresden, aWaiting the opening of the spring campaign. Saxony was held with a tight grasp, and taxes and recruits were gathered from the country as if it had al- ways belonged to Prussia. Frederick had hoped that his sudden campaign would have led him into the heart of the Austrian states. Instead of this, though he had wrested Saxony from Po- land, he had given Austria ample time to pre- pare her armies for a long war, and had roused all Europe io intense hostility against him. It became more and more manifest to Fred- erick that he must encounter a terrible conflict upon the opening of the spring. Early in Jan- uary he took a short trip to Berlin, but soon re- turned to Dresden. Though he avoided all ap- pearance of anxiety, and kept up a cheerful air, he was fully conscious of his peril. This is evi- dent from the secret instructions he left with his minister, count Finck, upon his departure from Berlin. The dispatch was dated January 10, 1757: Should it chance that my army in Saxony were beaten, or that the French should get pos- session of Hanover, and threaten us with in- vasion from that quarter, or that the Russians should get through by Neumark, you are to save the royal family and the archives. Should ~ve be beaten in Saxony, remove the royal family to Ciistrin. Should the Russians enter by Nen- mark, or a misfortune befall us in the Lausitz, all must go to Magdeburg, but not till the last extremity. The garrison, the royal family, and the treasure must be kept together. In such a case the silver plate and the gold plate must at once be coined into money. If I am killed, affairs must go on without alteration. If I should be taken prisoner, I forbid you from paying the least regard to my person, or paying the least heed to what I may write from my place of detention. Should such misfortune happen to me, I wish to sacrifice my- self for the state. You must obey my brother. He, as well as all my ministers and generals, shall answer to me with their heads not to offer any province or ransom for me, but to continue the war, pushing their advances as if I had never existed in the world. Two days after committing this important document to count Finck Frederick took leave of his mother and his brother. His mother he never saw again. We have no evidence that on this visit he even called upon his irreproach- able, amiable, neglected wife. In preparation for the worst, Frederick had provided poison for himself, and wore it constantly about his person. It consisted of several small pills in a glass tube. This fact is fully established. All Europe, England alone excepted, was aroused against him. Armies were every where being marshaled. The press of all continental Europe was filled with denunciations of his crimes and encroachments. Not all his efforts to assume a careless air could efface from his countenance the impression left there by the struggles of his soul. His features, as seen in a portrait painted about this time, are express- ive of the character of an anxious and unhappy man. Early in the spring of 1757, France, Russia, Austria, Poland, and Sweden were combined against Frederick. These countries represent- ed a population of one hundred millions. Fred- ericks domains contained hut five millions. His annual revenue was but about ten million dol- lars. He had an army in the field of one hun- dred and fifty thousand of the best troops in the world. His fortresses were garrisoned by about fifty thousand of inferior quality. The armies FREDERICK THE GREAT. 45 of the allies numbered four hundred and thirty thousand. Frederick was regarded as an out- law. The design of the allies was to crush him, and to divide his territory between them. Aus- tria was to retake Silesia. France was to have the Wesel-Cleve country. Russia was to an- nex to her domains Prussen, Ki5nigsberg, etc. Poland, having regained Saxony, was to add to her territory Magdeburg and Halle. Sweden was to have Pomerania. Never hefore had there appeared such a combination against any man. The situation of Frederick seemed des- perate. France was first in the field with a superb host of one hundred and ten thousand men. The other powers speedily followed. In four great armies of invasion these hosts pressed upon Prussia from the southeast and southwest, the northeast and northwest. The Russian battalions were one hundred thousand strong. The Austrian army was still more formidable. It was supposed that Frederick would remain in Saxony on the defensive against the Aus- trians, who were rapidly gathering their army at Prague, in Bohemia. The city was situated upon the river Moldan, one of the tributaries of the Elbe, and was about sixty miles south of Dresden. Ga the 20th of April Frederick, having se- cretly placed his army in the best possible con- dition, commenced a rapid march upon Prague, thus plunging into the very heart of Bohemia. He advanced in three great columns up the val- ley of the Elbe and the Moldan. His move- ments were so rapid and unexpected that he seized several Austrian magazines which they had not even time to burn. Three months provisions were thus obtained for his whole army. The first column, under the king, was sixty thousand strong. The second column, led by general Bevern, numbered twenty-three thousand, horse and foot. The third, under marshal Sch.werin, counted thirty-two thousand foot and twelve thousand horse. On the 2d of May the banners of Frederick were seen from the steeples of Prague. They appeared float- ing from the heights of the Weissenberg, a few miles west of the city. At the same time the other two columns, which had united under marshal Schwerin, appeared on the east side of the Moldan, upon both banks of which the city is built. On the 5th of May, after careful reconnois- sauce, Frederick crossed the Moldan several miles north of Prague. He went over upon pontoons unopposed, and thus effected a junc- tion with his troops on the east side of the river. The Austrian army was drawn up on some for- midable heights but a short distance east of the city. Their position was very strong, and they were thoroughly intrenched. On the 6th of May the dreadful battle of Prague was fought. For many years, as not a few of our readers will remember, it was fought over and over again upoa all the pianos in Christendom. They will remember the awe with which, as children, they listened to the tumult of the battle, swelling forth from the ivory keys, with the fierce rattle of musketry, the terrible booming of the can- non, and the groans of the dyingsuch groans as even the field of battle itself could scarcely have rivaled.. The final and decisive struggle took place on and around two important emincnces, called the Sterbohol Hill and the Homoly Hill. Both of these heights the Prussians stormed. In the following glowing words Carlyle pictures the scene: Fearful tugging, swagging, and swaying is conceivable, in this Sterbohol problem! And after long scanning, I rather judge that it was in the wake of that first repulse that the veteran Schwerin himself got his death. No one times it for us; but the fact is unforgetable; and in raz nATTLE OF PRAGUE, MAT 6, 1T57. a a a. First position of Austrian Army. b b b. Second position to meet the Prussian Att Ye. c. Prussiases under Keith. ~ d d. First position of Prussian Army. e e. Second position of Prussian Army. f. Schwerins Pruss . g. Pr sian Horse. h. Mannsteins Attack. i. Place of Schwerins Menu at. 46 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the dim whirl of sequences dimly places itself there. Very certain it is at sight of his own regiment in retreat, field-marshal Schwerin seized the colors, as did other generals, who are not named, that day. Seizes the colors, fiery old man: This way, my sons! and rides ahead along the straight dam again; his sons all turning, and with hot repentance following. On, my children, this way! Five bits of grape shot, deadly each of them, at once hit the old man; dead he sinks there on his flag; and will never fight more. This way! storm the others with hot tears; adjutant Von Platen takes the flag: Platen too is instantly shot; but another takes it. This way, on! in wild storm of rage and grief; in a word, they managed to do the work at Sterbohol, they and the rest. First line, second line, infantry, cavalry (and even the very horses, I suppose), fighting inexpress- ibly; conquering one of the worst problems ever seen in war. For the Austrians too, es- pecially their grenadiers there, stood to it tough- ly, and fought like men; and every grenadier that survived of them, as I read afterward, got double pay for life. Done, that Sterbohol work; those foot- chargings, horse - chargings; that battery of Homoly Hill; and, hanging upon that, all man- ner of redoubts and batteries to the rightward and rearward: but how it was done no pen can describe, nor any intellect in clear sequence un- derstand. An enormous melee there: new Prus- sian battalions charging, and ever new, irre- pressible by case shot, as they successively get up; marshal Browne, too, sending for new battalions at double-quick from his left, dis- puting stiffly every inch of his ground. Till at length (hour not given), a cannon shot tore away his foot; and he had to be carried into Prague, mortally wounded. Which probably was a most important circumstance, or the most important of all. This battle, writes Frederick, which be- gan toward nine in the morning, was one of the bloodiest of the age. The enemy lost twenty- four thousand men, of whom four thousand were prisoners. The Prussian loss amounted to eight- een thousand fighting men, without counting marshal Schwerin, who was alone worth above ten thousand. This day saw the pillars of the Prussian infantry cut down. Immediately after the battle Frederick wrote rather a stately letter to his mother, informing her of his victory, and that he was about to pur- sue the foe with a hundred and fifty thousand men. Fifty thousand of the defeated Austrians entered Prague and stood at bay behind its ram- parts. Frederick seized all the avenues, that no provisions could enter the city, convinced that starvation, combined with a vigorous as- sault, would soon compel the garrison to surren- der themselves, the city, and all its magazines. On the 9th of May the bombardment with red- hot balls commenced. The siege lasted six weeks, creating an amount of misery over which angels might weep. The balls of fire were constantly kindling wide and wasting conflagrations. Soon a large portion of the city presented only a heap of smouldering ruins. Besides the garrison of fifty t~nsand there were eighty thousand inhabitants in the city, men, women, and children. Large numbers perished. Some died of starvation; some were burned to death in their blazing dwellings; some were torn to pieces by shot and shell; some were buried beneath the ruins of their houses. In the stillness of the night the wails and groans of the sufferers were borne on the breeze to the ears of the Prussians in their intrenched camp. Starvation brought pestilence, which caused the death of thousands. The inhabitants, reduced to this state of awful misery, entreated the Aus- trian general to surrender. He refused, hut forced out of the gates twelve thousand skele- ton, starving people, who consumed the provi- sions but could not contribute to the defense. Frederick drove the poor creatures back again at the point of the bayonet, threatening to shoot them all. The cruel act was deemed a neces- sity of war. Maria Theresa, anxious to save Prague, sent an army of sixty thousand men under general Dana to its relief. This army, on the rapid march, had reached Kolin, about fifty miles east of Prague. Should general Daun, as was his plan, attack Frederick in the rear, while the fifty thousand in Prague should sally out and attack him in front, ruin would be almost in- Battle of KO LI N, June 18, 1157. a a. Austrian Army. b 5. Prussian Army. e. Ziethens Hussars. d. Nadastis Hussars. e. The Oak Wood. FREDERICK THE GREAT. 47 evitable. Frederick, gathering thirty-four thou- sand men, marched rapidly to Kolin and attack- ed the foe with the utmost possible fierceness. The Austrians not only nearly twice outnum- bered him, but were also in a very command- ing position, protected by earth-works. Never did men fight more reckless of life than did the Prnssians npon this occasion. And so from right wing to left, writes Carlyle, miles long there is now universal storm of volleying, bayonet charging, thunder of artillery, case shot, cartridge shot, and siil- phurous devouring whirlwind; the wrestle very tough and furious, especially on the assaulting side. Here, as at Prague, the Prussian troops were one and all in the fire, each doing stren- uously his utmost. There is no reserve left. All is gone up into one combustion. To fan the fire, to be here, there, fanning the fire where need shows, this is now Fredericks fnnc- tion. This death-wrestle lasted, perhaps, four hours; till seven or, perhaps, eight oclock, of a Jnne evening. Frederick exposed himself like a common soldier. Indeed, it sometimes seems that, in the desperate state of his affairs, he songht the fatal bullet. All his efforts against the Aus- trians were in vain. The Prussians were re- pulsed with dreadful slaughter. After losing fourteen thousand men in killed, wounded, and prisoners, forty-five cannon, and twenty-two flags, Frederick was compelled to order a re- treat. His magnificent regiment of guards, one thousand in number, picked men, undoubt- edly the best body of troops in the world, was almost annihilated. The loss of the Austrians was about nine thousand men. They were so accustomed to be defeated by Frederick that they were equally surprised and delighted by this dearly earned victory. The accompanying plan will give the military reader an idea of the position of the hostile forces. Still the conquerors had such dread of their foe that they dared not emerge from their ram- parts to pursue him. Had they done so, they might easily have captured or slain his whole army. Frederick bore adversity with great a~arent equanimity. He did not for a mo- ment lose self-control, or manifest any agita- tion. With great skill he conducted his re tZ AFTER THE DEFEAT. // if!,. 7 48 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. SOPHIA TiOROTlizA. treat. Immediately after the battle he wrote to his friend lord Marischall: Prosperity, my dear lord, often inspires a dangerons confidence. Twenty-three battal- ions were not sufficient to drive sixty thousand men from their intrenchments. Another time we will take our precautions better. Fortune has this day turned her back upon me. I ought to have expected it. She is a female, and I am not gallant. What say you to this league against the margrave of Brandenburg? How great would be the astonishment of the great elector if he could see his great-grandson at war at the same time with the Russians, the Austrians, almost all Germany, and one hun- dred thousand French auxiliaries! I do not know whether it will be disgraceful in me to be overcome. But I am sure there will be no great glory in vanquishing me. Frederick retreated down the banks of the Elbe, and sent couriers to the camp at Prague, ordering the siege immediately to be raised, and the troops to retire down the Moldan to join him at Leitmeritz. The news was received at the camp at two oclock on Sunday morning, June 19, creating amazement and consternation. As Frederick was on his retreat with his broken battalions from the field of battle, parched with thirst, bu ruing with heat, and smothered with dust, it is recorded that an old dragoon bron~ht 1 AaeazxaoaTz, Histoire de la 6uerre de cet Homme. to the king, in his steel cap, seine water which be had drawn from a well, saying to his soveteign, consolingly: Never mind, sire, God Al- mighty and we will mend this yet. The enemy may get a victory for once, but that does not send us to the devil. AtNimburg, abouttwenty miles from Kolin, where the retiring Prussians were crossing the Elbe, Frederick sat upon a green mound, lost in thought, as his troops de- filed before him. He was scratch- ing figures upon the sand with his stick. Raising his eyes, says Ar- cbenholtz, he surveyed, with speechless emotion, the small remnant of his life-guard of foot, his favorite battalion. It was one thousand strong yesterday morning, hardly four hundred now. All the soldiers of this chosen battalion were personally known to him; their names, their age, their native place, their his- tory. In one day death had mowed them down. They had fought like heroes, and it was for him they had died. His eyes were visibly wet. Down his face rolled silent tears. Suddenly dashing the tears away, he issued his swift orders, and, mounting his horse, gal- loped to Prague, where he arrived Sunday even- ing. The next day the siege was raised, and the besieging troops were on the retreat north into Saxony. The whole army was soon ren- dezvoused at Leitmeritz, emi the Elbe, about thirty miles south of Dresden. Here Frederick awaited the development of the next movement of his foes. He had hardly arrived at Leitmeritz ere he received the tidings of the death of Sophia Dor- othea, his mother. She died at Berlin on the 28th of June, 1757, in the seventy-first year of her age. This grief, coming in the train of disasters which seemed to be overwhelming his Prussian majesty, affected him very deeply. Frederick was subdued and softened by sorrow. lIe remembered the time when a mothers love rocked his cradle, and wrapped him around with tender care. The reader will be surprised to learn that his griefperhaps with some com- minglings of remorse-was so great that he shut himself in his closet and wept with sob- bings like a child. The news reached the king on the 2d of July. Sir Andrew Mitchell, the English ambassador at Berlin, who had accom- panied Frederick on this campaign, and who appears to have been his intimate friend, writes: Yesterday, July 3, the king sent for me in the afternoon, the first time he has seen any body since the news came. I had the honor to FREDERICK THE GREAT. 49 remain with him in his closet. I must own I was most sensibly affected to see him indulging his grief and giving way to the warmest filial affections; recalling to mind the many obliga- tions he had to her late majesty; all she had suffered, and how nobly she had borne it; the good she did to every body; the one comfort he now had, that he tried to make her last years more agreeable. On the 1st of July, the day before the king heard of his mothers death, he wrote to Wil- hehnina, in reply to a letter from her which ex- pressed great anxiety on his account: Dear sister, fear nothing on my score. Men are always in the hand of what we call destiny. Accidents will befall people walking on the streets, sitting in their room, lying on their bed; and there are many who escape the perils of war. Again, on the 5th of July, he wrote: I write to apprise you, my dear sister, of the new grief that overwhelms us. We have no longer a mother. This loss puts the crown on my sor- rows. I am obliged to act, and have not time to give free course to my tears. Judge, I pray you, of the situation of a feeling heart, put to so severe a trial. All losses in the world are ca- pable of being remedied, but those which death causes are beyond the reach of hope. On the 7th of July he wrote again to Wil- helmina. The letter reveals the anxiety of his heart, and his earnest desire to escape, if possi- ble, from his embarrassments. Wilhelmina had written, offering her services to endeavor to se- cure peace. The king replied: You are too good. I am ashamed to abuse your indulgence. But do, since you are will- ing, try and sound the French, and learn what conditions of peace they would demand. Send that Mirabeau to France. Willingly will I pay the expense. He may offer as much as five million thalers [$3,750,000] to the Favor- ite,2 for peace alone. Soon after this, Frederick again wrote to his sister a letter which throws so much light upon his character that we give it almost entire; LEITMERITz, Jury 13, 1751. My DEAR SIsTER,Your letter has ar- rived. I see in it your regrets for the irrepar- able loss we have had of the best and worthiest mother in this world. I am so overwhelmed by these blows from within and without that I feel myself in a sort of stupefaction. The French have seized upon Friesland, and are about to pass the Weser. They have instigated the Swedes to declare war against me. The Swedes are sending seventeen thou- sand men into Pomerania. The Russians are besieging Memel. General Schwald has them on his front and in his rear. The troops of the empire are also about to march. All this will force me to evacuate Bohemia so soon as that crowd of enemies gets into motion. 1 An uncle of the great Mirabeau. 2 The duchess of Pompadour. VoL XLII.~o. 241.4 I am firmly resolved on the utmost efforts to save my country. Happy the moment when I took to training myself in philosophy. There is nothing else that can sustain a soul in a sit- uation like mine. I spread out to you, my dear sister, the detail of my sorrows. If these things regarded myself only, I could stand it with composure. But I am the bound guard- ian of the happiness of a people which has been put under my charge. There lies the sting of it. And I shall have to reproach myself with every fault if, by delay or by overhaste, I oc- casion the smallest accident. I am in the condition of a traveler who sees himself surrounded and ready to be assas- sinated by a troop of cut-throats, ~~ho intend to share his spoils. Since the league of Cambrai1 there is no example of such a conspiracy as that infamous triumvirate, Austria, France, Russia, now forms against me. Was it ever before seen that three great princes laid plot - in concert to destroy a fourth who had done nothing against them? I have not had the least quarrel either with France or with Russia, still less with Sweden. Happy, any dear sister, is the obscure man whose good sense, from youth upward, has re- nounced all sorts of glory; who, in his safe and humble place, has none to envy him, and whose fortune does not excite the cupidity of scoun- drels. But these reflections are vain. We have to be what our birth, which decides, has made us in entering upon this world. I beg a thousand pardons, my dear sister. In these three long pages I talk to you of no- thing but my troubles and affairs. A strange abuse it would be of any other persons friend- ship. But yours, my dear sister, is known to me; and I am persuaded that you are not im- patient when I open to you my hearta heart which is yours altogether, being filled with sen- timents of the tenderest esteem, with which I am, my dearest sister, your FREDERICK. At this time the whole disposable force of his Prussian majesty did not exceed eighty thousand men. There were marching against him combined armies of not less, in the aggre- gate, than four hundred thousand. A part of the Prussian army, about thirty thousand strong, under the kingseldest brother, Augustus Will- iam, prince of Prussia, was sent north, especial- ly to protect Zittan, a very fine town of about ten thousand inhabitants, where Frederick had gathered his chief magazines. Prince Charles, with seventy thousand Austrians, pursued this division. He outgeneraled the prince of Prus- sia~, drove him into wild country roads, took many prisoners, captured important fortresses, and opening a fire of red-hot shot upon Zittau, laid the whole place, with its magazines, in 1 In the years 15081509 the celebrated league of Cambrat was formed by Louis XII. of France, Maxi- milian, emperor of Germany, Ferdinand, king of Spain, and pope Julius IL, against Venice. The league was called Holy because the pope took part in it. HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ashes. The prince of Prussia, who witnessed the conflagration which he could not prevent, re- treated precipitately toward Lobau, and thence to Bautzen, with his army in a deplorable con- dition of exhaustion and destitution. Here Frederick, with the remainder of the army from Leitmeritz, joined his brother, against whom he was greatly incensed, attrib- uting the disasters he had encountered to his incapacity. At four oclock of the 30th of July the king met the prince of Prussia and the other generals of the discomfited army. Both parties approached the designated spot on horseback. The king, who was accompa- nied by his suit, upon his arrival within about two hundred feet of the place where his broth- er, with his officers, was awaiting him, without saluting the prince, or recognizing him in the slightest degree, dismounted and threw him- - self in a reclining posture upon the green- sward. General Goltz was then sent with the following messag~ to the prince: His majesty commands me to inform your royal highness that he has cause to be greatly discontented with you; that you deserve to have a court-martial held over you, which would sentence you and all your generals to death; but that his majesty will not carry the matter so far, being unable to forget that in the chief general he has a brother. Augustus William, overwhelmed by his dis- grace, and yet angered by the rebuke, coldly replied that he desired only that a court-mar- tial should investigate the case and pronounce judgment. The king forbade that any inter- course whatever should take place hetween his own, troops, soldiers or officers, and those of his brother, who, he declared, had utterly de- graded themselves by the loss of all courage and ambition. The prince sent to the king general Schultz to obtain the countersign for the army. Frederick refused to receive him, saying that he had no countersign to send to cowards. Augustus William then went him- self to present his official report and a list of his troops. Frederick took the papers without saying a word, and then turned his back upon his broth~.r. This cruel treatment fell with crushing force upon the unhappy prince. Con- scious of military failure, disgraced in the eyes of his generals and soldiers, and abandoned by the king, his health and spirits alike failed him. The next morning he wrote a sad, respectfully reproachful letter to Frederick, stating that his health rendered it necessary for him to retire for a season from the army to recruit. The reply of the king, which was dated Bautzen, July 30, 1757, shows how desperate he, at that time, considered the state of his affairs. Hope- less of victory, he seems to have sought only inexcusable, whether they gave you bad advice or only sufThred you to come to such injudicious resolutions. In this sad situation it only re- mains for me to make a last attempt. I must hazard a battle. If we can not conquer, we must all of us have ourselves killed. I do not complain of your heart, but of your incapacity, and of the little judgment you have shown in making your decisions. A man who has but a few days to live need not dissem- ble. I wish you better fortune than mine has been; and that all the miseries and bad adven- tures you have had may teach you to treat im- portant matters with greater care, sense, and resolution than you have hitherto done. The greatest part of the calamities which I now ap- prehend comes only from you. You and your children will suffer more from them than I shall. Be persuaded, nevertheless, that I have always loved you, and that with these senti- ments I shall die. FREDEnIcir. Upon the reception of this letter the prince, without replying to it, verbally asked leave, through one of his officers, to throw up his commission and retire to his family in Berlin. The king scornfully replied, Let him go; he is fit for nothing else. In the deepest dejec- tion the prince returned to his home. Rapidly his health failed, and before the year had passed away, as we shall have occasion hereafter to mention, he sank into the grave, deploring his unhappy lot. Frederick speedily concentrated all his strength at Bautzen, and strove to draw the Austrians into a battle; but in vain. The heights upon which they were intrenched, bristling with cannon, he could not venture to assaiL After three weeks of impatient ma- nceuvring Frederick gathered his force of fifty- six thousand men close in hand, made a sudden rush upon Bernstadt, about fifty miles to the east of Bautzen. here he surprised an Aus- trian division, scattered it to the winds, seized all its baggage, and took a number of prisoners. ITo also captured the field equipage, coach, horses, etc., of general Nadasti, who narrowly escaped.. The French, advancing from the Rhine on the ~vest, were sweeping all opposition before them. They had overrun Hanover, and com- pelled the duke of Bruns~vick, brother of George LI., to withdraw, with his Ilanoverian troops, from the alliance with the king of Prussia. This was a terrible blow to Frederick. It left him entirely alone to encounter his swarming enemies. The prince of Soubise had rendezvoused fifty thousand French and Saxon troops at Erfurt, about a hundred and seventy miles ~vest of death. Dresden. He had also, scattered around at different posts, easily accessible, a hundred Mx DEAR BxoruER,Your bad conduct thousand more well-armed and well-disciplined has greatly injured my affairs. It is not the troops. Frederick took twenty-three thousand enemy, but your ill-concerted measures, which men and marched to assail these foes in almost have done me this harm. My generals also are despairing battle. To plunge with so feeble a FREDERICK THE GREAT. Si band into such a mass of enemies seemed to be the extreme of recklessness. On the 30th of August Frederick commenced his march from Dresden. Great caution was requisite, and great military skill, in so bold an adventure. On the 13th of September he reached Erfurt. The prince of Soubise, aware of the prowess of his antagonist, retired to the hills and intrenched himself, waiting until he could accumulate forces which would render victory certain. Frederick had now with him his second brother, Henry, who seems to have very fully secured his confidence. On the 16th of September the king wrote: My brother Henry has gone to see the duchess of Gotha to-day. I am so oppressed with grief that I would rather keep my sadness to myself. I have reason to congratulate my- self much on account of my brother Henry. He has behaved like an angel, as a soldier, and well toward me as a brother. I can not, un- fortunately, say the s~me of the elder. lie sulks at me, and has sulkily retired to Torgan, from which place he has gone to Wittenberg. I shall leave him to his caprices and to his bad conduct; and I prophesy nothing for the future unless the younger guide him. In these hours of trouble the noble Wil- helmina was as true to her brother as the mag- net to the pole. She was appalled by no dan- gers, and roused all her energies to aid that brother struggling, with the world arrayed against him. The king appreciated his sisters love. In a poetic epistle, addressed to her, composed in these hours of adversity, he wrote: 0 sweet and dear hope of my remaining days; 0 sister whose friendship, so fertile in resources, shares all my sorrows, and with a helpful arm assists me in the gulf! It is in vain that the destinies have overwhelmed me with disasters. If the crowd of kings have sworn my ruin, if the earth have opened to swallow me, you still love me, noble and affec- tionate sister. Loved by you, what is there of misfortune? In conclusion he gives utterance to that gloomy creed of infidelity and atheism which he had adopted instead of the Christian faith. Thus destiny with a deluge of torments fills the poisoned remnants of my days. The pres- ent is hideous to me, the future unknown. Do you say that I am the creature of a beneficent being? I see that all men are the sport of des- tiny. And if there do exist s6me gloomy and inexorable being who allows a despised herd of creatures to go on multiplying here, he values them as nothing. He looks down on our virtues, our misdeeds, on the horrors of war, and on all the cruel plagues which ravage earth, as a thing indifferent to him. Where- fo~ my sole refuge and only haven, loved sis- ter, is in the arms of death. Twenty years before this Frederick, in a let- ter to his friend baron Suhm, dated June 6, 1736, had expressed the belief that while the majority of the world perished at death, a few very distinguished men might be immortal. The thought alone, he wrote, of your death, my dear Suhm, affords me an argument in proof of the immortality of the soul. For is it possible that the spirit which acts in you with so much clearness, brightness, and intelligence, which is so different from matter and from bodythat fine soul endowed with so many solid virtues and agreeable qualitiesis it pot- sible that this should not be immortal? No! I would maintain in solid argument that, if the greatest part of the world were to be annihi- lated, you, Voltaire, Boilean, Newton, Wolfins, and some other geniuses of this order must be immortal. ~ Now, however, Frederick, in that downward path through which the rejecters of Christianity invariably descend, bad reached the point at which he renounced all belief in the immor- tality of the soul and in the existence of God. In a poetic epistle, addressed to marshal Keith, he declares himself a materialist, and affirms his unwavering conviction that the soul, which he says is but the result of the bodily organiza- tion, perishes with that body. He declares suicide to be the only remedy for man in his hour of extremity. Wilbelmina, in her distress, in view of the peril of her brother, wrote to Voltaire, hoping that he might be persuaded to exert an influ- ence in his favor. The king, my brother, she wrote, sup- ports his misfortunes with a courage and a firm- ness worthy ot~ him. I am in a frightful state, and will not survive the destruction of my house and family. That is the one consolation that remains to me. I can not write farther of it. My soul is so troubled that I know not what I am doing. To me there remains nothing but to follow his destiny if it is unfortunate. I have never piqued myself on being a philoso- pher, though I have made many efforts to be- come so. The small progress I made did teach me to despise grandeur and riches. But I could never fad in philosophy any cure for the wounds of the heart, except that of getting done with our miseries by ceasing to live. The state I am in is worse than death. I ~ee the greatest man of his age, my brother, my friend, reduced to the most frightful extremity. I see my whole family exposed to dangers and, perhaps, destruc- tion. Would to Heaven I were alone loaded with all the miseries I have described to you. Five days after this letter was written to Vol- taire by Wilhelmina, from Baireuth, Frederick, on the 17th of September, 1757, wrote his sis- ter from near Erfurt. This letter, somewhat abbreviated, was as follows: Mv DEAREST SIsTEE,I find no other con- solation but in your precious letters. May Heav. Must mon seul asile en mon unique port Se trouve, cht~re sceur, dane see brIe de Ia mort. Correspondence Fcsmil re et Amica~e, tome i p. 31. 52 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. en1 reward so much virtue and such heroic senti- ments! Since I wrote you last my misfortunes have but gone on accumulating. It seems as though destiny would discharge all its wrath and fury upon the poor country which I had to rule over. I have advanced this way to fall upon a corps of the allied army, which has run off and intrenched itself among hills, whither to follow, still more to attack them, all rules of war forbid. The moment I retire toward Sax- ony this whole swarm will be upon my heels. ~iappen what may, I am determined, at all risks, to fall upon whatever corps of the enemy ap- proaches me nearest. I shall even bless Heav- en for its mercy, if it grant me the favor to die sword in hand. Should this hope fail me, you will allow that it would be too hard to crawl at the feet of a company oftraitors to whom successful crimes have given the advantage to prescribe the law to me. If I had followed my own inclinations I should have put an end to myself at once after that unfortunate battle which I lost. But I felt that this would be weakness, and that it be- hooved me to repair the evil which had happen- ed. But no soonerhad Ihastened this way to face new enemies than Winterfield was beaten and killed near Gorlitz; than the French entered the heart of my states; than the Swedes blockaded Stettin. Now there is nothing effective left for me to do. There are too many enemies. Were I even to succeed in beating two armies, the third would crush me. As for you, my incompar- able sister, I have not the heart to turn you from your resolves. We think alike, and I can not condemn in you the sentiments which I daily entertain. Life has been given us as a benefit. When it ceases to be such ! I have nobody left in this world to attach me to it but you. My friends, the relations I loved most, are in the grave. In short, I have lost every thing. If you take the resolution which I have taken, we end together our misfortunes and our unhappiness. But it is time to end this long, dreary letter. I have had some leisure, and have used it to open to you a heart filled with admiration and gratitude toward you. Yes, my adorable sis- ter, if Providence troubled itself about human affairs, you ought to be the happiest person in the universe. Your not being such confirms me in the sentiments expressed in my epistle. In his epistle Frederick had expressed th~ opinion that there was no God who took any in- terest in human affairs. He had also repeated- ly expressed the resolve to Wilhelmina, and to Voltaire, to whom he had become partially rec- onciled, that he was prepared to commit sui- cide should events prove as disastrous as he had every reason to expect they would prove. He had also urged his sister to follow his example, and not to survive the ruin of the family. Such was the support which the kiug, in hours of ad- versity, found in that philosophy for which he had discarded the religion of Jesus Christ. On the 15th of September, two days before Frederick had written the despairing letter we have just given, Wilhelmina wrote again to him, in response to previous letters, and to his poetic epistle. Mv DEAREST BmtoTnmt,Your letter and the one you wrote to Voltaire have nearly killed me. What fatal resolutions, great I Ah, my dear brother, you say you love me, and you drive a dagger into my heart. Your epistle, which I did receive, made me shed riyers of tears. I am now ashamed of such weakness. My misfortune would be so great that I should find worthier resources than tears. Your lot shall be mine. I shall not survive your mis- fortunes, or those of the house I belong to. You may calculate tha~ such is my firm resolu- tion. But, after this avowal, allow me to entreat you to look back at what was the pitiable state of your enemy when you lay before Prague. It is the sudden whirl of fortune for both parties. The like can occur again when one is the least expecting it. Ca3sar was the slave of pirates, and yet he became master of the world. A great genius like yours finds resources even when all is lost. I suffer a thousand times more than I can tell you. Nevertheless, hope does not abandon me. I am obliged to finish. But I shall never cease to be, with the most profound respect, your WILHELMINA. On the 11th of October an express courier reached Fredericks camp with the alarming in- telligence that an Austrian division of fifteen thousand men was on the march for Berlin. The city was but poorly fortified, and held a gar- rison of but four thousand troops. Frederick had no doubt that the Austrian army was acting in co-operation with other forces of the allies, advancing upon his metropolis from the east, north, and west. Immediately he collected all his available troops and commenced a rapid march for the protection of his capital. In the mean time Wilbelmina had heard of this new peril. A rumor also had reached her that there had been a battle, and that her brother was wounded. The following letter reveals the anguish of her heart: BAIREuTE, October 15, 1757. MYDRAIIEST BItoTHEIt,Death and a thou- sand torments could not equal the frightful state I am in. There run reports that make me shud- der. Some say that you are wounded, others that you are dangerously ill. In vain have I tormented myself to have news of you. I can get none. Oh, my dear brother, come what may, I will not survive you. If I am to con- tinue in this frightful uncertainty, I can not 1 Heaven !~ This was probably a slip of the pen. Frederick would have been perplexed to explain who or what he meant by Heaven. It would, however, subsequently appear that he used the word as synony- mous with fate or destimj. FREDERICK THE GREAT. 53 stand it. In the name of God, bid some one write to me. I know not what I have written. My heart is torn in pieces. I feel that by dint of disquietude and alarms I am losing my senses. Oh, my dear, adorable brother, have pity on me. The least thing that concerns you pierces me to the heart. Might I die a thousand deaths provided you lived and were happy! I can say no more. Grief chokes me. I can only repeat that your fate shall be mine; being, my dear brother, your WILUELMINA. It turned out that the rumor of the march upon Berlin was greatly exaggerated. General Haddick, with an Austrian force of but four thousand men, by a sudden rush through the woods, seized the suburbs of Berlin. The ter- rified garrison, supposing that an overwhelming force of the allied army was upon them, retreat- ed, with the royal family and effects, to Span- dan. General Haddick, having extorted a ransom of about one hundred and forty thoi~- sand dollars from the city, and two dozen pair of gleves for the empress queen, and learning that a division of Fredericks army was fast ap- proaching, fled precipitately. Hearing of this result, the king arrested his steps at Torgan and returned to Leipsic. The Berliners assert- ed that the two dozen pair of gloves were all gloves for the left hand. Frederick reached Leipsic on the 26th of Ge-. tober. The allied forces were rapidly concen- trating in overwhelming numbers around him. On the 30th the king marched to the vicinity of Lutzen, where he encamped for the night. General Soubise, though in command of a force outnumbering that of the Prussians nearly three to one, retreated rapidly to the west before Fred- erick, and crossed the river Saale. Frederick followed, and effected the passage of the stream with but little opposition. After some manceuvring the hostile forces met upon a wide, dreary, undulating plain, with here and there a hillock, in the vicinity of Ross- bach. Frederick had twenty thousand men. The French general, prince Soubise, had sixty thousand. The allies now felt snre of their prey. Their plan was to surround Frederick, destroy his army, and take him a prisoner. On the morning of the 5th of November the two hostile armies were nearly facing each other, a few miles west of the river Saale. A party of Austrians was sent by the general of the allies to destroy the bridges upon the river, in the rear of the Frussians, that their retreat might be cut off. Frederick, from a house-top, eagerly watched the movement of his foes. To his surprise and great satisfaction he soon saw the whole allied army commencing a cirenitous march around his left to fall upon him in his rear. Instantly, and like a change of scene in the opera, the Prussians were on the rapid march to the east, in as perfect order as if on parade. Taking advantage of an eminence, called James Hill, which concealed their movements from the allies, Frederick hurled his whole concen- trated force upon the flank of the van of the army on the advance. He thus greatly out- numbered his foes at the point of attack. The enemy, taken by surprise, in their long line of march, had no time to form. MAP OF THE 0AMPAICN OF zossuAcH. 54 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. BATTLE OF ROSSBACH. Nov ber 5, 1TST. a a. First Position of Combined Army. b b. First Position of Prussian Camp. a c. Advance of Prussian Army. d d. Second Position of Com- bined Army. e e. Prussians retiretoRossbach. f. French Cavalry, under St. Germain. gg. March of Combined Army to attack Prussian Rear. A. Prussian Attack led by Seid- litz. i. Position of Prussian Guns. Compact as a wall and with an incredible velocity, Seidlitz, in the blaze of rapid steel, is in upon them. From the first it was manifest that the destruction of the advance guard was certain. The Prussian cavalry slashed through it again and again, throwing it into inextrica- ble disorder. La less than half an hour this important portion of the allied troops was pnt to utter rout, tumbling off the ground, plung- ing down bill in full flight, across its own in- fantry, or whatever obstacle, Seidlitz on the hips of it, and galloping madly over the horizon. And now the Prussian artillery, eighteen heavy guns, opened a rapid and murderous fire upon the disordered mass, struggling in vain to deploy in line of battle. Infantry, artillery, cavalry, all were at work, straining every nerve, one mighty mind controlling and guiding the terrible mechanism in its death-dealing blows. The French regiments were jammed together. The Prussians, at forty paces, opened a platoon fire of musketry, five shots a minute. At the same moment the impetuous Seidlitz, with his triumphant and resistless dragoons, plunged upon the rear. The centre of the allied army was thus annihilated. It was no longer a bat- tle, but a rout and a massacre. In twenty minutes this second astonishing feat was ac- complished. The whole allied army was now put wildly to flight, in one of the most humiliating and disastrous retreats which has ever occurred. There is generally some slight diversity of state- ment in reference to the numbers engaged on such occasions. Frederick gives sixty-three thousand as the allied force. The allies lost, in killed, wounded, and missing, about ten thousand men. The loss of the Prussians was but five hundred. The French, in a tumultu- ous mass, fled to the west. Crossing the Un- strut River at Freiburg, they burned the bridge behind them. The Prussians rebuilt the bridge and vigorously pursued. The evening after the battle the king wrote as follows to Wilbel- mina. His letter was dated, Near Weissen- fels. At last, my dear sister, I can announce you a bit of good news. You were doubtless aware that the Coopers with their circles had a mind to take Leipsic. I ran up and drove them beyond Sanle. They called themselves 63,000 strong. Yesterday I went to recon- noitre them; could not attack them in the post they held. This rendered them rash. To- day they came out to attack me. It was a bat- tle after ones own heart. Thanks to God,1 I have not one hundred men killed. My brother Henry and general Seidlitz have slight hurts. We have all the enemys cannon. I am inJull march to drive them over the Unstrut. You, my dear sister, my good, my divine, my affec- tionate sister, who deign to interest yourself in the fate of a brother who adores you, deign also to share my joy. The instant I have time I will tell you more. I embrace you with my whole heart. Adieu. F. Voltaire, speaking of this conflict, says, It was the most inconceivable and complete rout and discomfiture of which history makes any mention. Thirty thousand French afid twenty thousand imperial troops were there seen mak- ing a disgraceful and precipitate flight before five battalions and a few squadrons. The de- feats of Agincourt, Cressy, and Poitiers were not so humiliating.2 As usual, Frederick wrote a poem upon the occasion. It was vulgar and profane. Carlyle (Frederick, vol. v. p. 168) says of ii, The au- thor, with a wild burst of spiritual enthusiasm, sings the charms of the rearward part of certain men. He rises to the height of anti-biblical profanity, quoting Moses on the Hill of Vision; sinks to the bottomless of human or ultra-hu- 1 The atheistic pen of Frederick will sometimes ~lip. 2 Mem4res pour Servir ella Vie rio M. Do Voltaire. THE HOCK OF THE LEGION OF HONOR. 55 man depravity, quoting king Nicomedess expe- rience on C~sar, happily known only to the learned. .A most cynical, profane affair; yet we must say, by way of parenthesis, one which gives no countenance to Voltaires atrocities of rumor about Frederick himself in the matter. The routed allies, exasperated and starving, and hating the Protestant inhabitants of the region through which they retreated, robbed and maltreated them without mercy. The woes which the defenseless inhabitants endured from the routed army in its flight no pen can adequately describe. An eye-witness writes, from near Weissenfels, in a report to the king of Poland, whose allies the French were, and whose~erritories they were ravagin~ The French army so handled this place as not only to take from its inhahitants, by open force, all bread and articles of food, but likewise all clothes, bed linens, and other portable goods. They also broke open, split to pieces, and emp- tied out all chests, boxes, presses, drawers; shot dead in the back-yards and on the roofs all manner of feathered stock, as hens, geese, pigeons. They carried off all swine, co~vs, sheep, and horses. They laid violent hands on the inhabitants, clapped swords, guns, and pistols to their breasts, threatening to kill them unless they brought out whatever goods they had; or hunted them out of their houses, shoot- ing at them, cutting, sticking, and at last driv- ing them away, thereby to have freer reom to rob and plunder. They flung tint bay and oth- er harvest stock into the mud, and had it tram- pled to ruin under the horses feet. For a hundred miles around, writes St. Germain, the country is plundered and har- ried as if fire from heaven had fallen on it. Scarcely have our plunderers and marauders left the houses staiding. This signal achievement raised the military fame of Frederick higher than ever before. Still it did not perceptibly diminish the enor- mous difficulties with which he was environed. Army after army was marching upon him. Even by a series of successful battles his forces might be annihilated. But the renown of the great victory of Rosshach will ever reverherate through the halls of history. THE ROCK OF THE LEGION OF HONOR. By BERTHOLD AUERBACH, AUTHOR OF ON THE HEIGHTS, zro. CHAPTER IX. A TRANQUIL 5rOT. ONTHS have gone by. The steamboat ITt stops at Fluelen, on the Lake of the Four Cantons, and from a carriage, whose arrival from Italy was unmistakable, Herr Merz and his daughter alighted, both looking sun-burnt and ruddy. A large quantity of luggage was car- ried on board the boat, and the Italian coach- man thanked the gentleman and the lady with great fluency. And after the boat had shoved off he bade them good-by, accompanying his words with the most lively southern gesticu- lations. On board the steamboat there was a promis- cuous company speaking a great variety of lan- guages; but one common sentiment animated the minds of all, as they gazed upon the grand scenery and the cottages on the shores amidst the steep cliffs. Each one received the im- pression according to his own particular mood and state, and the conversation was pitched upon that peculiar key which is usual among people when music is playing. As then they listen to the melody without being conscious that they are listening, so now a great variety of subjects was talked of; but there was all the time this accompanying feeling of the mag- nificent natural scenery around them, pervad- ing all their converse, and often producing a sudden silence. Not far from the helmsman Louise sat alone, looking out upon the landscape. She paid no regard to the looks of which she was the ob- ject, or to the casual observations which she happened to overhear. Sortie took her for a widow just out of mourning, and others for the young, newly married wife of the old gentle- man who accompanied her. Her father had come across a former dep- uty, a member of the same political party, who had joked Louise on not having fulfilled his expectation that she would get married. Herr Merz was now standing with the man on the other side of the boat, and they were engaged principally in talking over public affairs; they were neither of. them in active life, but they still retained a lively interest in political mat- ters. Hcrr Merzs old acquaintance informed him that the daughter who had been betrothed during that first winter at the capital had now three children, and that he was to meet the next day in Lucerne his youngest married daughter, who had been on a wedding trip to Italy. He had five daughters who were all marriedthe youngest to a manufacturer and the others to army and government officers. He was lavish of his praise of the present gen- eration of young men, differing in this fromn many in our day; he said that they were less romantic than we old men had been; more rea- sonable and energetic. He made cautious but unevasible inquiries, how it had happened that Louise was still single. Herr Merz could not but declare that this

Berthold Auerbach Auerbach, Berthold The Rock of the Legion of Honor. - Part II. 55-66

THE HOCK OF THE LEGION OF HONOR. 55 man depravity, quoting king Nicomedess expe- rience on C~sar, happily known only to the learned. .A most cynical, profane affair; yet we must say, by way of parenthesis, one which gives no countenance to Voltaires atrocities of rumor about Frederick himself in the matter. The routed allies, exasperated and starving, and hating the Protestant inhabitants of the region through which they retreated, robbed and maltreated them without mercy. The woes which the defenseless inhabitants endured from the routed army in its flight no pen can adequately describe. An eye-witness writes, from near Weissenfels, in a report to the king of Poland, whose allies the French were, and whose~erritories they were ravagin~ The French army so handled this place as not only to take from its inhahitants, by open force, all bread and articles of food, but likewise all clothes, bed linens, and other portable goods. They also broke open, split to pieces, and emp- tied out all chests, boxes, presses, drawers; shot dead in the back-yards and on the roofs all manner of feathered stock, as hens, geese, pigeons. They carried off all swine, co~vs, sheep, and horses. They laid violent hands on the inhabitants, clapped swords, guns, and pistols to their breasts, threatening to kill them unless they brought out whatever goods they had; or hunted them out of their houses, shoot- ing at them, cutting, sticking, and at last driv- ing them away, thereby to have freer reom to rob and plunder. They flung tint bay and oth- er harvest stock into the mud, and had it tram- pled to ruin under the horses feet. For a hundred miles around, writes St. Germain, the country is plundered and har- ried as if fire from heaven had fallen on it. Scarcely have our plunderers and marauders left the houses staiding. This signal achievement raised the military fame of Frederick higher than ever before. Still it did not perceptibly diminish the enor- mous difficulties with which he was environed. Army after army was marching upon him. Even by a series of successful battles his forces might be annihilated. But the renown of the great victory of Rosshach will ever reverherate through the halls of history. THE ROCK OF THE LEGION OF HONOR. By BERTHOLD AUERBACH, AUTHOR OF ON THE HEIGHTS, zro. CHAPTER IX. A TRANQUIL 5rOT. ONTHS have gone by. The steamboat ITt stops at Fluelen, on the Lake of the Four Cantons, and from a carriage, whose arrival from Italy was unmistakable, Herr Merz and his daughter alighted, both looking sun-burnt and ruddy. A large quantity of luggage was car- ried on board the boat, and the Italian coach- man thanked the gentleman and the lady with great fluency. And after the boat had shoved off he bade them good-by, accompanying his words with the most lively southern gesticu- lations. On board the steamboat there was a promis- cuous company speaking a great variety of lan- guages; but one common sentiment animated the minds of all, as they gazed upon the grand scenery and the cottages on the shores amidst the steep cliffs. Each one received the im- pression according to his own particular mood and state, and the conversation was pitched upon that peculiar key which is usual among people when music is playing. As then they listen to the melody without being conscious that they are listening, so now a great variety of subjects was talked of; but there was all the time this accompanying feeling of the mag- nificent natural scenery around them, pervad- ing all their converse, and often producing a sudden silence. Not far from the helmsman Louise sat alone, looking out upon the landscape. She paid no regard to the looks of which she was the ob- ject, or to the casual observations which she happened to overhear. Sortie took her for a widow just out of mourning, and others for the young, newly married wife of the old gentle- man who accompanied her. Her father had come across a former dep- uty, a member of the same political party, who had joked Louise on not having fulfilled his expectation that she would get married. Herr Merz was now standing with the man on the other side of the boat, and they were engaged principally in talking over public affairs; they were neither of. them in active life, but they still retained a lively interest in political mat- ters. Hcrr Merzs old acquaintance informed him that the daughter who had been betrothed during that first winter at the capital had now three children, and that he was to meet the next day in Lucerne his youngest married daughter, who had been on a wedding trip to Italy. He had five daughters who were all marriedthe youngest to a manufacturer and the others to army and government officers. He was lavish of his praise of the present gen- eration of young men, differing in this fromn many in our day; he said that they were less romantic than we old men had been; more rea- sonable and energetic. He made cautious but unevasible inquiries, how it had happened that Louise was still single. Herr Merz could not but declare that this HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. was, with the exception of the loss of his wife, the one trouble of his life; he tried to submit himself to it, and to renounce the hope of do- mestic happiness for his child. The friend of Herr Mera now called to an army officer, a brother of his youngest daugh- ters husband, whom he had accidentally met on the boat, and introduced him to Herr Merz and Louise. They were making the circuit of the lake, and Louise was afraid that the evening, and perhaps a longer time, would be spoiled by this chance meeting, to which the beloved solitude would have to be sacrificed without any adequate compensation. As they neared a small bay of the lake they saw a bright house, with a newly laid out garden, that looked inviting. Louise heard it said that there was a landing-place here, and she begged her father to disembark. The place seemed so cheerful, so attractive; there ~vas no time to consider the matter, the bell rang, Louise hastily raised her hand-bag, and induced her father to take his, the planks were shoved out, Louise and her father went ashore, and the luggage was landed after them. From the shore Herr Merz said good-by to his acquaintances, and Louise nodded a fare- well to them, who stood looking on in surprise, and then quickly turned away. Thank you, father, exclaimed Louise, drawing a long hreath. I dont know why it is, but it seems to me that Ive dreamed of this place, just as it is, with the lake sparkling be- fore it, the fountain bubbling up, the house shingled just like that, and the bell ringing as its ringing now up there in the village. Oh, it is pleasant to knoW how many beautiful, quiet spots there are in the world ! The hostess came up and welcomed the strangers in French. She said, pointing to the house, that the two baicony rooms, in the corner commanding the finest view, had been left va- cant that very day. Caspar, the factotum of the house, who proudly wore his high cap, with the name of the hotel embroidered on its band, nodded to the host& ss with a glance which said, They are people of rank; a man with three orders in his button-hole bowed to them from the steamboat. The house-dog, too, seemed to consider it his duty to greet the travelers; he settled himself before Louise, slowly winking his eyes as he looked at her; the hostess mo- tioned him away, but Louise said she liked ani- mals, and called him to her; he sprang briskly toward her, then ran back to his mistress, as if to say: You see, the strangers like me direct- ly, they know at once that Im a good fellow ! Louise took her fathers arm, and they went toward the house. In front of it two children were playing on a board. At one end, work- ing a stick in the sand, as if rowing a boat, stood a boy, dressed in a red blouse, his legs bare from the ankles, covered by fine stockings, to the short trowsers, and wearing yellow shoes of the natural color of the leather. A little girl, in the picturesque costume of the province, sat on a stool at the other end of the board, and was begging the boatman to let her drink once from the lake. The boy assented with a gra- cious wave of the hand, and she bent low over the sand, as if drinking. Louise held her father back, saying, in a low voice, Oh, what a charming picture! She spoke to the children in French, and they an- swered in the same language, the boy with a sort of condescending politeness, the girl very prettily. Father and daughter went to their rooms, which they found very pleasant. Louise left all the arrangements to Herr Merz, who asked about other inmates of the house, learning, in reply, that thee was no danger of disturbance from them as e were artists~ho spent the whole day strolling among the mountains. Louise stood on the balcony, pressing her hands to her breast, or stretching her arms out, as if she would fly. When her father joined her she exclaimed, Oh, father, I feel as if pure happi- ness were pouring down upon me. I did not know there was such rest, such a dewy air to breathe in the world. And you will find many pleasures here, her father replied. There are five French painters with their wives and children in the house. CHAPTER X. A JOYFUL GREETING. THE quiet prospect from a firmly fixed dwell- ing is most refreshing after one has been for days viewing the swiftly passing scenery from the moving cars or the deck of a steamboat. With this feeling Louise and her father sat com- fortably together on the balcony, looking out over the lake and toward the mountains. & o sound was heard except the plashing of the fountain in the garden, sometimes broken by the shout of the children who were chasing each other on the shore. The sunset glow came over earth and sky, and the lake reflected the ever-varying tints. Night drew on, the vil- lage bells rang, the children hurried home. The boy in the red blouse allowed no one hut himself to ring the house bell, which called the inmates together for supper. When Herr Merz and his daughter entered all eyes were turned toWard them for a moment; but the conversation, carried on entirely in French, was quickly resumed. The father and daughter sat, in conformity with the usual rule, at the lower end of the table. The person at the head appeared to be an old soldier, who wore a mustache, white like his closely cut hair. He turned to two ladies seated at his right and left, and nodded, as if pleased with the appear- ance of the new-comers. The strangers felt that they had entered a circle of people forming a society of their own, and that they must wait to see what reception was given them. Opposite Louise sat a young THE ROCK OF THE LEGION OF HONOR. 57 man who spoke to no one. Was he shut out from the circle, or did he hold back voluntari- ly? She could not decide. Before the meLd was over he left the hall as if angry, without bowing to any one. When the company rose Louise nodded to the two children who had met her so pleasantly on her arrival. In a po- lite and easy manner their mother approached her, and soon asked whether she had left chil- dren at home, as she seemed so fond of them. Louise colored slightly as she answered in the negative. The company repaired to the read- ing and music rooms, and Louise followed. A few gentlemen moved toward the piazza and began to smoke, Herr Merz among them. As no one addressed him, he went alone to the gar- den, and along the lake shore, till he was join- ed by the gentleman who had sat at the head of the table, and who introduced himself as an of- ficer from French Switzerland~ He was the oldest regular guest of the house, and extolled the happy manner of life in it, saying that there was always a straggle in the minds of the in- mates whether they should recommend the com- fortable place for the sake of its worthy pro- prietor, fearing as they did that the comfort would be destroyed by a crowd of visitors. Louise, without staying long in the parlor, came to join her father, who introduced his daughter to the colonel. Louise asked what had been the matter with her discontented- looking opposite neighbor at table. The col- onel explained that he was a German physician accompanying a patient oppressed by a nervous melancholy, who never left his room. The young man was, of course, somewhat worn by the society of his patient, who never wished him to leave him; and, moreover, his discontent must be considerably increased from the fact that he did not speak French, and must feel himself excluded from the society in the house. The hostess had told Louise that the full moon would rise over the mountains about eleven oclock, and that she ought not to miss the won- derful sight; Louise wanted to wait for moon- rise, but both she and her father were so weary that they went to rest and were soon asleep. But Louise suddenly opened her eyes, awak- ened by the bright light of the full moon. She arose, stood at the window, and looked out at the wonderful landscape in its dreamy light, and at the lake reflecting the broad, bright beams of the moon. A boat was coming down the silver stream of light from the upper lake; in it sat a man, sending out a clear jodel into the moonlit night. The boat came nearer and nearer, the jodel grew louder, more animated and powerful; the house windows opened, voices of men and women cried: Monsieur Edgar ! A shout, which rose like a rocket, answered from the lake, and more and more madly and merrily jodeled the man in the boat. The host and hostess, and the factotum Caspar, hastened to the shore, calling out to each other: Herr Edgar is coming! and the dog barked. The boat came to land. A tall man, wearing a pointed hat, which he now lifted, greeted the people of the hotel and those who appeared at the windows as he sprang ashore. In a loud voice he told them that, as there was now no night steamer to the place, and he had not chosen to wait in the neighborhood till the next day, he had taken a boat and rowed him- self over. Louise then heard the hostess say that his corner room was no longer vacant, as a young lady and old gentleman had taken it that very day, but that they would probably not stay long. The new-coiner entered the house, and his baggage was brought in after him. All became still again, the moon shone over mountains and the lake; all was quiet, but Lonise felt her heart beat. What is this? Ah, we still meet strange events, like those related in old tales and le- gends. Is not this such an event, that a man should come floating over the moonlit lake, and that a joyful welcome should meet him? But how will it all look by daylightin the midst of the prose of our world, with its fixed hotel rates? The fountain before the house plashed and bubbled, and it, too, sounded as if it had learn- ed the cry, Monsieur Edgar! Monsieur Ed- gar! So it went on sounding till Louise went to sleep. CHAPTER XI. TIlE NEW NEIGHBOR. IN the morning Louise did not wake until the breakfast-bell rang. Her father told her that he had taken a long walk in the neighborhood, and, in compliance with her wish, had sent a telegram to Lucerne ordering his letters and a daily journal to be sent to him here. Louise hardly knew what she had desired, sat up in bed and tried to collect her thoughts, whether she had been dreaming or it had been real. She begged her father to wait for her in the next room until she had dressed, but directly asked him through the closed door whether he had heard any thing of a Monsieur Edgar who had arrived during the night. Why, yes, replied her father; and every body is gladthe people of the inn, the guests, the waiters, and especially Caspar, who said to the cowherd: Now we shall have a jolly time! Monsieur Edgar is here! And I heard him speak to the inn-keeper about their again build- ing the bridge for him to-day. Louise wanted to tell her father that she had witnessed the mans arrival, and to ask him whether he bad yet seen the bringer of so much joy, but she refrained. They soon went into the breakfast-room, where breakfast was served at small round tables. At one table the guests had all eyes directed to one person, and talked only with him; and in his lap were seat- ed the boy with the red blouse and the little girl, who had on to-day a white dress. 58 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. He was tall, with a dark complexion, thick to bear them company, but, as she was not in- heavy hair, and closely trimmed black beard. vited to do so, she passed on. It was silent in His voice was musical, and the expression of the house and in the garden, except that the his countenance friendly; he now put up his two children were playing on the shore of the eye-glass, which was lying before him on the lake with the dog, who seemed to be fully aware table, and asked some question, in a low tone, of his duty to entertain the guests. of the mother of the two children. Now came along the nervous invalid with He had evidently asked about Louise and her his companion, and Louise and her father sa- father, for the answer was given in the same luted them; but, as the invalid made a motion low tone, and all eyes turned toward father to excuse himself, they went on without join- and daughter, who soon had the whole room ing their society. to themselves, as the company ~vent into the Louise went to her room, wishing to get her garden, where the new arrival, Monsieur Edgar, materials for painting, and find out some good was leading the children back and forth by the point of view, but a peculiar shyness prevented hand. her from doing it. How could she venture Strange contradiction 1 said Herr Merz to with her dilettante attempts in the vicinity of Louise. The French, who have far less feel- professional artists? ing for freedom than for equality, are foppishly She ivent with her father to the village, and fond of decorationsthey wear their badges they ascended a little elevation which was cele- while they are traveling, and, of all the places hinted for its beautiful prospect. Her father in the world, here in the Swiss republic, where was so fortunate as to find here a man who thcre are no badges or ribbons. passed his summers in the village, and had be- There may be some vanity at bottom, re- fore him a bundle of the latest newspapers. 1)lied Louise, but they may also feel it to be a They easily became acquainted, and the man duty to let it be seen that they are no ordinary offered to supply Herr Merz with the daily pa- men, and he appears to be an extraordinary pers. He had once been a highly respected man. member of the Swiss Confederate Assembly, Who ? and Herr Merz soon became engaged with him Herr Edgar. As I saw him last night I in a very animated discussion of politics, and was should never have believed that he would wear invited with his daughter to go into the small by daylight, in the presence of these mountains, cottage, which the old man had fitted up com- where every thing of the kind seems so paltry, fortably; and, as all his children were married a decoration like that. She narrated to her off, he was living in it alone with his wife. It father what had occurred, and there was a tone was a refreshing glance into a qniet, retired of depression in her voice as she added that life. nothing extraordinary would abide the light of When they left the house at noon, herr Mers common day. said: We lose sight alttgether of how little The hostess now entered, and, without being it takes to make us happy. questioned by the two strangers, said that Mon- Dear father, that is no little which these sieur Edgar was dearly beloved by every body; persons possess; they have undisturbed quiet, that he had come up there from Rome for and a sufficient income, and these are no tri- several summers, had staid the last time five fles. months, and had painted a splendid picture of Yes, yes, added her father; if your mo- the region. ther were still living, and you had married, 1 Louises father asked whether the woman and believe that your mother and I would have se- the two children belonged to him, and the host- lected just such a small house in some beauti- ess said no, adding that he was too jolly to be a ful spot; but ififthat is a word one should married man, and made no account of the ladies, not allow himself to use. but liked children, and was foolishly fond of When they returned to the inn the company them. were just taking seats at the dinnertable. Louise inquired whether they could not see There was a lively discussion going on, because the points of view from which the artists now Monsieur Edgar did not want to have any here were taking pictures. change made in the previous arrangements. The hostess shrugged her shoulders, saying He resisted the general desire that he should that painters were like the birds who flew to sit at the upper part of the table among his their nests in some roundabout course, so as friends; the president was the only one who not to betray the place where they were; that said that he was in the right, and he took a they took particular care not to be disturbed in seat, as the last comer, directly opposite Lou- their work; but, if any one found them out in ise and next the physician, who looked sourly their hiding-places, where they were busy, they at him. There was nothing said at this part could not help it. of the table, and the artists vanished as soon The men had all gone out, even the host and as the cloth was removed. Caspar had disappeared. The mother of the In the afternoon Louise joined the ladies~ two children was sitting with the rest of the whs remained in the house, while her father women on the shady side of the house, occupied went with the acquaintance of the morning to with some hand-work. Louise would have liked visit a neighboring silk manufactory. THE ROCK OF THE LEGION OF HONOR. 59 When the artists returned at evening Louise was introduced to them, and also to Monsieur Edgar. After tea they assembled in the music- room, and the m cther of the two children sang some pleasant French songs, accompanying her- self on the piano, while her sister, a slender girl with hlonde locks, after much urging, played the violin. The sight of the violin-player and her heautiful motions was charming. Edgars eye was fixed steadfastly upon her. Louise sat near her father, and whispered to him: Dont you think that the violinist looks like Marie ? Her father nodded. Monsieur Edgar now took a vacant seat.by the side of Louise, and requested her to sing, or to play the piano. She declared that she had no musical talent, and the tone in which she said it was so sincere that he said he believed her, and was fully con- vinced that she did not out of affectation as-, sume a modest diffidence. Louise expressed her thanks, but it struck her as rather strange that the, man, who had seen so little of her, saw into the depths of her soul. She wanted to ask how he came to have so good an opinion of her, but she suppressed the question, for perhapsas she tried to per- suade herselfthis was a new specimen of French politeness. To his remark, that he should have judged from her voice in speaking that she could sing, she replied, that in her younger years she did have something of a voice for singing, but it was so inferior that she had given up the prac- tice. He continued the conversation, and in apt language upheld the claims of music as being the only unifying art. People ~of different na- tions and different social circles found in the realm of tones a point of oneness, which was high ahove all tongues, and was something uni- versal. He added, jestingly: If the people who were building the Tower of Babel had known how to sing, there would never have been the confusion of tongues. His manner of speaking was so simple and effective, and, whether in jest or earnest, was so much to the point, that there was plainly to he discerned not only social tact, but also deep and varied thought in many directions. Louise, who was in the habit of constructing the whole thought and sentiment in its entirety out of single expressions which came from the depths of conviction, looked with an expression of pleasure at the speaker; but he rose after a short time, seated himself by the violinist, and then went with his friends into the garden. Louise and the ladies soon followed. Jest and laughter in the soft moonlight were heard along the shore, mingled with the plashing of the waves of the lake. Louise felt at home in this circle of guests, and when she was alone with her father, con- gratulated him and herself on their good for- tune in having stopped here. On the next morning the eu-representative appeared with his hoat in front of the house, and sent the boatman to Herr Merz to invite him to take a sail far out on the lake and to catch some fish. The village pastor, a jolly comrade, who turned to good service his an- gling craft, was to be of the company. Louise ventured to take with her her little sketching-book concealed under her mantilla, and went by the road along the lake shore, then up a hill to a point where there was an extens- ive view, and, having made sure that there was no one in sight, began to sketch. At noon she returned from her work in ex- cellent spirits, and there was much good-humor at the table, for the three men had had good luck in fishing, and their booty was a part of the dinner. The sky clouded over, but the painters were not detained from continuing their work. Caspar, ~vho united to his other multifarious vocations that of an infallible weather prophet, predicted a severe storm for the evening, and they had hardly seated themselves at the tea- table when it began to thunder and lighten. Only the ladies went into the music-room, but they did not venture to strike a note now, when the storm was raging so fearfully outside. The artists had gone out to view the bright flashes of lightning, and were only driven into tke house by the pouring rain. CHAPTER XII. A JODEL-CALL A~D A CRY OF DISTRESS. THE morning dawned bright, the trees and grass glistened in the sunlight, and the outlines of the mountains were sharply defined against the cloudless blue sky. Louise, followed by a boy who bore her paint- ing materials, which she ventured to take, and equipped with a mountain-staff, ascended a spur of the hill not far from the inn. The brook, swollen by the recent rain, could be heard rushing along on one side of the foot- path. She expected to find the bed of the brook higher up, and the farther she went the more courageous became her heart; she often turned round and gazed out upon the lake, and she was brimful of happiness. Now she stood upon a jutting cliff, whence the brook could be seen rushing below. She stopped, stuck the staff upright in the mossy soil, placed her left hand to her cheek, and jodeled merrily to the eujianse of air. Hark! Beneath, from the defile, an answer- ing jodel was given. Was not this the voice of Monsieur Edgar, as he had sung that night in the moonlight upon the lake? Once more Louise uttered a jubilant carol, and once more the same answer was returned from the defile below. Then cried a voice: Come here to me, you merry boy l Where are you 60 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. What! is this Herr Edgar? Does he speak German? Louise went onward; she was standing upon a rocky ledge, where it was precipitously steep, when Herr Edgar called out from below, but now in French, that she must stop, she was in a dangerous place, where she might be precip- itated into the abyss. She fixed the point of her staff in a fissure of the rock, bent forward and looked over to the brook beneath, where was a light scaffold- ing of boards, and Herr Edgar wrapped in a plaid, with large wooden shoes on his feet and an easel in front of him. Go back, cried he, in an anxious tone; take the left between those two firs! Will you come where I am? I will show you the way! Only wait until I have uncased myself a little. Are you all alone ? No; I am here too, cried the small guide. He was soon with Louise, and conducted her down. She was obliged to hold on to the bushes on both sides in order not to slip down; but at last she stood near the bridge, which she could not get upon, for there was here an arm of the brook through which she would have had to wade. Herr Edgar begged her to excuse him for not getting to her sooner, but his costume had impeded him. He pointed to a ladder which lay on the shore, and the boy quickly laid it across the rapid current to the rock on which the light bridge rested. Herr Edgar told Louise to go down on it backward; she did so, and now stood on the frail and unsteady platform. Go no farther; for the bridge will not bear two persons, cried Herr Edgar, adding, in a jesting tone, The bridge which I have built for myself over the rushing stream of life will only bear me ! Louise could make no reply. The painter said that he had kept his forest sanctuary en- tirely concealed from every one; but, as she had found it out, she might now quietly take a view of it. In a cheery tone he added that she had better put on his over-coat, for it was quite cool here, and he would like to christen this place as Rheumatism Grotto, for it was with no little difficulty that he had got rid of a rheumatism which he had contracted here last year. He speedily muffled himself up again, and then asked, Are you German, too, and was it you who jodeled so loudly? Strange! You can jodel and can not sing. I took you for one of the mountain-boys. He trod hard upon the platform, anil it shook; but he now added, I think the bridge will bear you and me. Come down! The painter extended his hand to Louise, who stood near him, and looked now at the picture on the easel, now at the rocks, the rush- ing brook, and the surrounding scenery. Which was the more charming, the reality or its rep- resentation by art? The brook leaped over a rock, but was divided into two branches by a boulder, on which a young fir-tree with ditliculty held its place. To the right was a small ra- vine, in which the foliage of many years had grown undisturbed, and now glittered in colors of wonderful beauty. Above, through the branches of the fir, a small opening of blue sky could be seen. Have you nothing to say ? asked the paint- er, as Louise stood perfectly speechless. I would rather be silent. I can only say that it is well done; one can see in the picture that you work con amore, for light, atmosphere, and coloring convey this impression to the soul. Thank you. I am glad that you have not begun by opening a parliamentary debate, as so many of our German ladies of culture do in looking at a work of art. At once an inter- pellation is offered to the artist, as if he were literally a minister of nature, by asking him: What do you intend by that? Whence do you get the other? Above all, how do you manage to conceal the inferiority of art, which can never equal the actual beauty of nature? Louise was agitated. Why did the painter make use of such a comparison as this to the former Daughter of the Parliament? But Herr Edgar continued in a pleasant tone: Ah, Erlinlein, theres nothing so pro- voking as this holding a discussion on a work of art. If one could express in words what the picture tries to express, the painting would be entirely superfluous. Louise was again moved. The artist had given utterance to what she had herself felt in Italy, and what had been her own hard-bought experience. I believe that I now see, said she, what art can and should do. The distant range of mountains refreshes the eye of the lover of na- ture, but But what? Ah, pardon me for having recourse to words with which to explain what I feel. Dont stop; you are on the right path. You also sketch ? Yes, I have painted a little, but shall not attempt it again. Yes, you are right in your but, resumed Edgar. In order to have atmospheric effect, there is no need of towering mountains and a distant prospect. A few trees, a hill, and the sky over it, would be sufficient. Louise did not continue the conversation, begging Herr Edgar not to leave off painting, as it would be highly interesting to her to watch the progress of a work of art. Herr Edgar at once complied with her request, and went on painting the masses of foliage, telling at the same time how he owed to this nook of the world the happiness of his life; he requested Louise to stand a little ~ne sideit was not easy to get a glimpse of the placethere he had painted in, in bright colors, the order of the Legion of Honor; and now he said that he wa~ painting the picture for the second THE ROCK OF THE LEGION OF HONOR. 61 time, and that he had given the rock the name of The Rock of the Legion of Honor; for he owed to the painting which he had brought out the previous year his reputation, and that external badge of distinction, which, as the ~vorld goes, is not to be slighted. He spoke in a peculiarly confidential tone, without looking at Louise, fixing his eyes now upon the rocks and now upon the easel. At last, turning to her, he inquired what part of Germany she lived in. She named the place, and the artist said that he had picked up some good studies, and hoped to produce many good pictures there yet. He painted on, asking whether Louise was ac- quainted with the garrison town. She said that she was. And have you ever known Marie, the daughter of the late Major Von Korneck ? Oh, certainly. She is an old friend of mine. She was at our house, not long ago, with her betrothed. The bridge cracked, and the painter uttered a cry as he fell. Louise also screamed, but seized the picture as she slipped, and raised it on high. The painter got up again, and, dripping with water, saw Louise grasping nervously the paint- ing, which she kept from being wet. Take it, cried she; I can not hold it any longer. He hurriedly took the picture from her hand, and, having placed it safely on one of the posts of the bridge that projected out of the water, seized Louise and bore her, rather than led her, to the shore. Have you received any hurt ? inquired he. None of any account, only I can not step on my left foot. The boy was soon on hand, and, hastening to the inn, brought back with him the father of Louise, who was borne to the inn in a sedan chair, Edgar following with the painting in his hand. CHAPTER XIII. LOVE WITH RUFFLES. LouIsAs misfortune produced an excitement throughout the house. They were very glad that there was a physician among themselves, and the young man who had been hitherto so silent and reserved, even overlooked by the rest, now became a centre of interest. He found, on examination of the foot, that the ankle was severely sprained. Caspar, the factotum, had remedies at hand for all such accidents, and came with a pot of liniment, which he extolled as having been highly useful for cases of that kind during his service in the papal army. He was not a little elated when the physician made a provisional application of the salve. After her foot had been swathed, Louise begged to be left alone. She puzzled herself with conjectures in regard to the emotion which the mention of Maries betrothal had caused in Herr Edgar, and she could fi?d no satisfactory solution of the riddle. Then she tried to im- agine what the inmates of the house would have to say about the occurrence, but she suc- ceeded no better in this, and sleep at last hap- pily delivered her from all thoughts and specu- lations. When she awoke it was still bright daylight, and to her great delight she saw before her the painting on an easel. She had her father and Herr Edgar called, and calmly stated to them that she could, of course, have ha dnot the most remote suspicion of any relations existing between Herr Edgar and Marie von Korneck. And now she heard for the first time that the cavalry captain had only assumed the part of Maries betrothed for that special occasion, so that she might become more intimately ac- quainted with him. She concealed her face with a pocket-handkerchief, and the painter said, This is one of her wild pranks, but she is too free. No girl ought to do such a thing as that, and, least of all, a girl who is bound by a promise to another. Louise was sufficiently composed and col- lected to defend Marie, and she could not help making mention of her grandmothers standing remark, that Marie was specially fitted for being an actress. The painter looked earnestly at Louise, and begged that he might be permitted to relate how he had become acquainted with Marie, and what was the nature of their connection. Louise, drawing a long breath, sat upright. Her father placed his hand on her brow, and requested the painter to defer it until the next day. Louise did not venture to oppose, and the painter withdrew, leaving Louise and her father alone. She asked him then whether it was really the fact that the captain had only pretended to be engaged when at their country house. Herr Merz had to confirm his state- ment. Evening came on, Louise grew feverish, and the physician gave her a composing draught. No sound was heard about the house, and Cas- par even stopped the fountain, that its constant plashing might not be heard. The next morning Louise awoke greatly re- freshed. Herr Edgar sent to ask whether he might see her, and Was answered in the affirm- ative. In presence of Louise and her father he related as follows: Yesterday evening, herr Merz, you stated to me how lively an interest you had taken in all the affairs of our father-land; and I can but agree with you, that the way in which the whole of the present generation of young men is made to serve in the army has something barbarous in it. Most certainly this waste of strength and wealth is in complete contradiction with the humane character of our age; but probably you have been less called upon to observe how 62 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. many finely tricked out and seemingly excellent persons, but with no real, sound basis of char- acter or preparation for life, are the result of this state of thinks. I know it to be a fact. I am the son of a soldier, and was early left fa- therless. I wore a uniform from my seventh year. My mother was poor, and she was obliged to earn her living. For fourteen years she was housekeeper in the country, not very far from where you lived. I caused her great grief; because, instead of becoming an officer, I was so apparently ungrateful as to leave the xuilitary life and follow my inclination for art. You can imagine the distress of my good mo- ther; and in her complainings that I should be- come a vagabond it sounded very strangely to hear her often regretting that I should never wear, as my father did, a decoration on my breast. You see that it is not out of vanity, but from compliance with this strange wish of my mother, that I wear a badge. But, pardon me, I am digressing. I have endured many kinds of want, but it is a happy circumstance that we are so constituted that we forget the pain and suffering of the past. It seems to me now as if some one else, and not I myself, had undergone this experience. It is now four years since a great piece of good fortune hap- pened to me. A German merchant, who had acquired a large property in Scotlind, and built a handsome villa near Bieberich, wished to adorn his large drawing-room with pictures of Scotch scenery. He had seen a landscape of mine for sale at a picture-dealers, and I re- ceived from him, unexpectedly, the commission to ornament the drawing-room. Money was furnished me to travel the whole summer in Scotland. I came back and began to work with lively pleasure. An older sister of the rich merchants wife, a very noble and highly cultivated lady, took me under her special pro- tection, and I can say that, next to my mother, no other human being has been so much to me as Frau Agatha. What could have been more favorable? I had kind, appreciative, and help- ful friends. I was enabled to induce my mo- ther to give up her situation, and to live with a sister married to a forester at N; and, be- sides, I had large wall spaces and the best light for my pictures. There was within me a perperuni rejoic- ing. At midsummer a friend of my patron- ess came to live at Bieberich, and with her Marie von Korneck. ThTey frequently visited the house where I was; the old lady had no taste for paintings, and was proud and honest enough not to pretend to have any. Marie, on the other hand, took a great interest in my work. Once I was sitting at twilight in the gar- den, dreaming of the future, and looking out into the wide-spreading beautiful landscape, when I heard my patroness say to her sister, as they were strolling together in the walks, Yes, if I wanted a wife for Edgar, Marie von Korneck would be the one. It thrilled me. I had derived sincere satisfaction from Manes always fresh and genial spirits, but to win her, to call hermy own, had never come into my thought. I openly confess that I have a strong dread of poverty; I have experienced it in its most bit- ter forms. I often said to myself in my quiet, thoughtful hours, You must never establish a household on any uncertain prospects. I reject- ed every appeal of my own nature, and was now thirty years old, and more and more resolved to renounce domestic happiness, if I could not have something certain to rely upon. Perhaps this may be considered timiditycowardicePhil- istinism. Herr Merz shook his head in denial, and Edgar went on: I often used these and stronger expressions in my self-reproaches, but my renunciation of domestic joys and of love was based upon the well-matured consideration that I was outside of the ordinary arrange- ments of social and civil life, outside of those employments based merely upon getting a sup- portI had followed my inclination in the choice of a calling, and was resolved to repress in its behalf every inclination for domestic establishment. I said to myself that I ought to make the sacrifice, and I saw very many of my fellow-artists come to naught, because they were not able to follow out the tendencies of their genius, being obliged to produce good salable works in order to support wife and child. I had a friend who introduced into ev- ery picture two girls, one a blonde and the other a brunette, whether they fitted in or not; one was painted in a velvet dress, and the other~ usually in silkthe pictures sell for a good price, but they are travesty of true art. And so I was determined to maintain myself free in my art as far as possible, having only myself and my mother to provide for. I did not con- sider myself justified in drawing a family into such an uncertain struggle. All at once it seemed different, and some- thing within me said that I ought not to make this renunciation. I ridiculed my fear of pov- erty, calling it poltroonery, representing to my- self that one ought to win for himself a position~ in life, and to be successful in a variety of rela- tions. I became more and more intimate with Marie, and her cheerful, gladsome temperament infused into me fresh inspiration. The fear would often insinuate itself that it was too great a risk to undertake to support another, without having any certain dependence of my own; but whenever I saw Marie and heard her voice, all these reflections vanished. We were both the children of soldiers, we had both ex- perienced the bitterness of that sham external well-being of which I have before spoken. I could consider myself fortunate in comparison with Marie, for she must be dependent on a life of service, subject her youthful inclinations to the humors of a not low-minded, but particular and fussy old lady, and I could not but admire that elasticity of temperament which enabled her to preserve the genial freedom of her na hire. But with all thisI will not make my- self out better than I amI did not have the courage to confess my love, and used often to say to myself that, if Frau Agatha had not dropped the words I had heard, I should never have specially thought of Marie as one whom I desired for a wife. Then autumn came, and there was an indef- inite and not plainly outspoken relation between Marie and myself. The time for setting out upon their journey came, and I accompanied Frau Agatha to Bie- bench in order to bid good-by to our friends. Their trunks were packed; Marie looked ex- cited; we stood at a window and looked out over the river. I said: It is a good thing for y ow to travel, grievous as it may be to me. She looked fixedly at me, but made no reply. It was plain to me that I involuntarily revealed the conflicting emotions within, and I only said: Give me your hand and let me say farewell here; I should rather not do it at the steam- boat landing; and let me say that we should lie rejoiced and consider it as a possession for life that we have met each other, and can pre- serve indelible pictures of memory in our souls. If on either of us good fortune smiles, we know that the other will afar off be refreshed by it. I have long thought about giving you some ex- ternal token of remembrance, hut I can not de- termine upon any, and it is better so. You have only the recollection of a meeting in the jour- ney of life, and I wish you from my heart a prosperous journey.~ Edgar stopped. After rather a long pause he ~vent on: Pardon me for detailing all this so minute- ly; I do not know how I came to do it; I will hereafter be more concise. The boat is in sight ! was suddenly called out. Trunks and boxes were carried to the landing. My patroness went with them to the boat, intending to accompany them a part of the way on the river; I bade them farewell at the house, and Marie and I said nothing more. I saw tears in her eyes, and through my own tears I saw that she trembled. The trunks were taken away, and all was desolate. I went through the rooms, which seemed to have been pillaged, and, suppressing my suffering, said to myself that it was well that it was over, that I had no right to bind anothers lot to my own. Then I saw on Maries sewing-table a pair of lace ruffles that had been forgotten. I can not say how it happened; I took up the ruffles, hastened down the steps, and succeeded in reaching the landing just as the boat was shov- ing off. I tried to hand the ruffles to Marie; but the captain, thinking that I wanted to go in the boat, grasped my hand, drew me on board, and we were off. The old lady looked at me in surprise, but Frau Agatha extended to me her hand, and I saw that Marie trembled. We sailed on in silence for a while, and then I said: We have THE ROCK OF THE LEGION OF HONOR. 63 only a few minutes more, for we must disem- bark at Walluf. It is kind in you to come, said Marie. There was something so touching in her tone that all my prudent reflections vanished, and every drop of blood in me was stirred. Marie, said I to her, only a few moments remain, now hear what I have to say. I have no right to bind your fate for life to mine, and so I am resolved that I will not be an obstacle in the way of your happiness, if such a path should open. Give me three yearsthat is to say, I leave you free if I do not write to you for three years. I will strive to earn a competency foi- our support, and if I do not succeed you are free. I beseech you not to engage your life indissolubly to me. Will you promise me that? She assented. I have nothing more to tell. I forgot to say that we had confessed our love. The bell rang for landing, and, in presence of my patroness and the old lady, ~ve kissed each other for the first time. Again Edgar paused. He did not venture to look at Louise, but cast his eyes down to the floor, although be would have liked to know how Louise now regarded him. At last he continued: I was in a strange mood, full of conflicting feelings; sometimes I considered myself as be- trothed, sometimes as perfectly free. Nothing has been settled, there is nothing binding. My work in the house of my patron was finished. I had earned enough to make my mother inde- pendent for many years, and now I went out fresh and free into the world. I was in Italy, and, strange to say, at the same time Marie was, but I did not know it until after she had re- turned to Germany. I caine hither. I painted the picture like the one you have seen. I re- ceived in Paris the highest mark of distinction I may be allowed to say that the external badge was prized by me only on my ijiothers account, and, in fact, her letter, in answer to mine informing her of the bestowal of the badge of the Legion of Honor, was a very happy one. I have a good reputation, and commissions for several years in advance. Now could I offer to Marie a competent support. I wrote to her. I have again journeyed hither in order to exe- cute a commission for a picture like the other, but smaller; I am expecting news of Marie; perhaps she may come herself. Edgar paused, and then said, in conclusion: You know now what is and what has been. The three sat speechless for a while, and then Louise said: I thank you, Herr Edgar. Edgar rose and left the room. Herr Merz remained with his daughter; but soon after he went to Edgar, and he had nothing else to say to him except to ask, Will you smoke a cigar with me? They sat and smoked in silence, until Herr Merz again ~vent to Louises room. 64 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. CHAPTER XIV. ON THE LAKE AND IN THE HOUSE. DAYS passed away; Louise could be carried into the open air, where she reclined upon a lounge in the garden. The children engaged in their play around her; the ladies sat with her, and also the physician, who seemed to have been loosed from a spell, as he found that Ed- gar was a German and inclined to be on friend- ly terms with him, as well as was the father of Louise. He proved himself to be a genuinely worthy and highly cultivated man. Yes, even the hypochondriac, whom he attended profes- sionally, quitted his solitary chamber and caine to Louise. He was the first to express the opinion to her that she ought to marry Edgar they would make a handsome couple. Louise trembled, and all the by-standers looked at each other in wonderment, and then cast down their eyes to the ground. The in- valid, who seemed. to be recovering, had ex- pressed the thought of all the rest. They were expecting letters, and whenever Caspar, the man-of-all-work, brought the let- ter-bag, Louise was much excited. What news will come from Marie? and suppose she herself should come, instead of writing? She begged her father to take their departure from the place, but the physician would not give his consent, and so she remained. By daily inter- course with Herr Edgar she became better and better acquainted with his genuine, fresh na- ture and his open, free soul; but there was a veil between their mutual relations that they did not venture to remove. Finally, on the second Sunday, a letter came to Edgar in Maries handwriting. Louise saw Caspar deliver the letter; she saw that Edgar grew pale as he read the superscription. He held the letter in his hand without opening it. The rest of the company had received letters, and ivent away to seats by themselves in order to read them. Herr Merz had received both letters and newspapers, and, having excused himself to his daughter, went into the house. Edgar still remained standing motionless in the same spot with the unopened letter in his hand, and at length, stepping up to Louise, said: Frfiulein Merz, whatever may be the con- tents of this letter, I must say to you before- hand what decision I have come to. I can never call Marie mine, for my heart belongs to another. I think that it is not so bad to be untrue once, as to be false to ones inner self for a whole lifetime. As I am now, and as I shall continue to be, I can not make Marie happy. I have asked myself whether it would not be the best thing to throw the letter un- opened, into the lake. Your look tells me that I ought not to do so. Well, then, will you open the letter ? I? Yes, you. Nothing which concerns me, and which has to do with my life, is to be kept a secret from you. Louise hastily opened the letter. She was struck at finding no writing inside, but only a printed sheet. On yellow parchment-like paper were the printed words: MAinE VON Konaxoir, ALanEcaT voN BnuumwsTocK, Late Captain of Ceveiry, Amstrath on the Royal I~maia R, Betrothed. Edgar took the printed sheet and opened it, thinking that there must be some line from Marie, but there was not a word. He seized Louises hand, saying, Now I am permitted to say it. May I say it? I am thine. Will you share my humble lot with me ? Not now, not now, not here, cried Louise; she was aware that persons were looking at them from the windows and the balcony. I will go into the house.~~ Caspar was quickly on band; but no other man was to be found, and so Caspar and Edgar bore Louise in the sedan chair back to the house. They came across her father, deeply engaged in reading his paper, and he cx- claimed: Louise, they have proposed me again as a candidate. We shall pass next winter at the capital. Louise shook her bead. Dont you believe I shall be chosen ? That is not the reason; but I am chosen! And I choosehere. Now, I beseech you, speak yourself, said she, turning to Edgar. He could hardly utter a word. Louises father embraced him and eumbraced his child. They sat together in cheerful mood, and Edgar assured Herr Merz that he could offer a modest but competent support to Louise. Her father smiled, and gave a description of the fine studio at his country seat, that was fit for a real artist, and not for a mere dilet- tante. Louise rose to her feet, and she could now step without pain. The physician directed that the ankle should be swathed with a single bandage, after which it would be well. The old representative of the confederation had for years strictly kept to holding no sort of relation with the strangers at the inn, as he wanted to be undisturbed, and as lie himself and his wife were perfectly satisfied with the peacefulness of their house and the inspiring in- fluence of the natural beauties which surround- ed them. But he had now entered into such friendly intercourse with Herr Merz that he suspended his long-standing regulation. The host and hostess greeted him with great re- spect, for which he thanked them in genuine, rustic heartiness, paid them some compliments, and also had a good word for Caspar. He went to the rooms of Herr Merz, and, after a hearty congratulation, said: You are such a genuine family man that it is not fitting for you and your child to celebrate a betrothal here in this inn, half on the high- way, as it were. My wife also desires me to TilE STATUE. 65 say that she wishes you would do it at our house. The invitation was gladly accepted. The betrothal was celebrated in the house of the ex-representative, under the sympathizing eyes of his wife and the hearty words of the old gen- tleman himself. Louise wore the betrothal ring, and the first thing she did with the hand on which it was was to write a letter to Edgars mother. Then shp took his arm, and they strolled through the village back to the inn. Louises betrothal put the whole company into a fresh excitement, and the melancholy in- valid was the first to present his congratula- tions. His mental oppression seemed to be disap- pearing gradually in the society of cheerful people. Then came the children with flowers, the painters ~vives, the menall were in jubilant spirits. Caspar dragged a small cannon up the mount- ain overlooking the Rock of the Legion of Hon- or; he directed the hostess to tell them not to be frightened, if they should hear firing; and now crack went the cannon from the rocks, and the echo came from over the lake and the dis- tant mountains. Louise and her betrothed went into the gar- den; they recalled all the time since their first meeting until the present moment. In the evening, when the moon shone brightly, they took a boat and rowed far out on the lake; there they jodeled into the soft air of night, and moved the hearts of all who heard the joyous notes. How happy must they be out there alone! * * * * * * At the station of a mountain district in Cen- tral Germany a vehicle was again drawn up, but now it was a close carriage. The leaves from the beech - trees whirled through the air, and cold, wet gusts seemed to he making sport, now rushing off toward the range of hills, and now unexpectedly sweeping back with a sudden turn. No one was on the platform; and when the whistle sounded the coachman came out from the carriage, holding on his cockade hat with both hands, and still chewing the last mouthful he had taken. The train rolled into the station, the snperin- tendent betook himself to the first-class car, opened it, bade Herr Merz a hearty welcome, and congratulated him on his re-election. He quickly added, however: Excuse me for not having yet congratulated you on the marriage of Fraulein Louise. Allow me to ask whether she will come back here with her husband ? Certainly she will! By spring. They are now in Paris. Herr Merz felt chilled, and drew his cloak close around him as he stood at the station. The beginning of the northern winter seemed to him, who had come from the south, so much VOL. XLH.No. 247.5 the sharper and more inclement. The luggage was taken out, the train rolled on; Herr Merz wanted to look after his own effects, but the station-master tried to dissuade him from do- ing so on account of the bleak wind, and the servant said that he would see to every thing. Herr Merz persisted in looking after it himself, saying that there was one box which must be handled with 3pecial care. You have not been playing a practical joke like that of your daughters friend, Fr~nlein Von Korneck, who took with her in the cars a dog bundled up like a baby ? No, nothing of that sort. It is a picture painted by my son-in-law. Come and see me~ and I will show it to you. What does it represent? Mount Rosa, or the Righi, or the Jungfrau ? Neither of theta. A cliff on the Lake of the Four Cantons, which is known to no one else but ourselves it used to be called the Rock of the Legion of Honor, and now it is called The Rock of Love. THE STATUE. IN Athens, when alt learning centred there, Men reared a column of surpassing height In honor of Minerva, wise and fair, And on the top that dwindled to the sight A statue of the goddess was to stand, That wisdom might obtain in all the land. And he who, with the beauty in his heart Seeking in faultless work immortal youth, Would mould this statue with the finest art, Making tbe wintry marble glow with truth, Should gain the prize. Two sculptors sought the fame; The prize they craved was an enduring name. Alcamenes soon carved his little best; But Phidias, Ileneath a dazzling thought That like a bright sun in a cloudless west Lit up his wide, great soul, with pure love wrough% A statue, and its face of changeless stone With calm, far-sighted wisdom towered and shone. Then to be judged the labors were unveiled; But at the marble thought, that by degrees Of hardship Phidias cut, the people railed. The lines are coarse; the form too large, said these; And he who sends tbis rough result of haste Sends scorn, and offers insult to our taste. Alcamenes praised work was lifted high Upon the capital where it might stand; But there it seemed too small, and gainst the sky Had no proportion from the uplooking land; So it was lowered and quickly put aside, And the scorned thought was mounted to be tried. Surprise swept oer the faces of the crowd, And changed them as a sudden breeze may change A field of fickle grass, and long and loud Their mingled shouts to see a sight so strange. The statue stood completed in its place, Each coarse line melted to a line of grace. So bold, great actions that are seen too near Look rash and foolish to unthinking eyes; They need the past for distance to appear In their true grandeur. Let us yet be wise, And not too soon our neighbors deed malign, For what seems coarse is often good and fine. 66 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. BOMBAY AND ThE PARSEES. THE Parsees, proudly claiming the title of Behendic, Followers of the True Faith, while their Mohammedan persecutors styled them Guebers, or Infidels, arrived on the xvest- era coast of Hindostan about one thousand years ago, fugitives from Moslem rage and fYi- naticism in their native land of Persia. It was an opportune time, when Buddhism was giving way before Brahminism, which latter religion, fourteen hundred years before, had been almost rooted out of the land by the faith it was in turn displacing, at least, in Iliudostan, and was ahimately to destroy. But modern Brahminism was a religion of a very different complexion to that brought from the Bactrian plains by the pure Aryan race, as expounded in their Vedasthose books, perhaps the very oldest in the worldolder not only than Ho- mer, bat than the events ~vhich he sings, com- piled almost as long ago as the Exodus, and many of its hymns written while the Israelites were still in bondage on the banks of the Nile. The Rig-Veda plainly asserts, according to a learned Hindu commentator, that there are ouly three deities: Suryn (the Sun), in heaven; Indra, in the sky; and Agni (Fire), on the earth. Li1/it, in its various manifestations, ~vas the object of that early worship. Bright haired and golden-handed, the Sun is the giver of abundance; his ray is called life-bestow- ing; coming from afar, he is said to remove all sins, and to have power to chase away sickness from the heart, and disease from the body. Goldenhaired Agui, howeveras light, heat, and firecalled forth the best affections of the Aryan as of the Persian. Indra was a deity of strictly hindu, or rather Indian origina persoi~ific~ition of the firmament with its brill-. iant, conutless stars. The close affinity between the believers in the Vedas and the exiled fire-worshipers of the Zoroastrean creed is apparent. Both be- ~Thuui or PARsaa ciuLanax.

A. G. Constable Constable, A. G. Bombay and the Parsees 66-76

66 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. BOMBAY AND ThE PARSEES. THE Parsees, proudly claiming the title of Behendic, Followers of the True Faith, while their Mohammedan persecutors styled them Guebers, or Infidels, arrived on the xvest- era coast of Hindostan about one thousand years ago, fugitives from Moslem rage and fYi- naticism in their native land of Persia. It was an opportune time, when Buddhism was giving way before Brahminism, which latter religion, fourteen hundred years before, had been almost rooted out of the land by the faith it was in turn displacing, at least, in Iliudostan, and was ahimately to destroy. But modern Brahminism was a religion of a very different complexion to that brought from the Bactrian plains by the pure Aryan race, as expounded in their Vedasthose books, perhaps the very oldest in the worldolder not only than Ho- mer, bat than the events ~vhich he sings, com- piled almost as long ago as the Exodus, and many of its hymns written while the Israelites were still in bondage on the banks of the Nile. The Rig-Veda plainly asserts, according to a learned Hindu commentator, that there are ouly three deities: Suryn (the Sun), in heaven; Indra, in the sky; and Agni (Fire), on the earth. Li1/it, in its various manifestations, ~vas the object of that early worship. Bright haired and golden-handed, the Sun is the giver of abundance; his ray is called life-bestow- ing; coming from afar, he is said to remove all sins, and to have power to chase away sickness from the heart, and disease from the body. Goldenhaired Agui, howeveras light, heat, and firecalled forth the best affections of the Aryan as of the Persian. Indra was a deity of strictly hindu, or rather Indian origina persoi~ific~ition of the firmament with its brill-. iant, conutless stars. The close affinity between the believers in the Vedas and the exiled fire-worshipers of the Zoroastrean creed is apparent. Both be- ~Thuui or PARsaa ciuLanax. BOMBAY AND THE PARSEES. 67 lieved that the Sun and Fire were the visible representatives of an incomprehensible Su- preme; for Zoroaster taught, as did the Vedas, that the finite mind of man could not grasp the idea of an Infinite, and that the life-giving Sun and all-pervading, all-consuming Fire, were the best types of the Eternal. Thus we read in the Yajur-Veda, translated by Colebrook, the Oriental scholar: Fire is That: the Sun is That: The air, the moon, such too is that pure Brahm.... ile prior to whom nothing was born, And who became all beings. In all the Vedas the Supreme is spoken of as That, never as Hepersonal in his phenomenal creatures, impersonal in himself. Such was the essence of the Sun-worship, or rather the worship of light, alike in its orb and its phe- nomena, which the Aryans brought with them from their home-land beyond the mountains, but which was subsequently degraded and de- filed by admixture with the idol-worship of the non-Aryan races, with whom they mingled on the plains and hills of India. During the many centuries that elapse(l between the composition of the Vedas and the arrival of the fu- gitive Persians at Surat, the almost pure Theism of the Vedas had been corrupted into the idolatrous Brah- minism of the present day; and yet the proof exists even now, that in all that time a thin stream of un- adulterated Vedic woiship had flow- ed down through the mass of cor- ruption, and at all times there were to be found Brabmins of the Brab- mins, who, instructed in the ancient hymns of the Vedas, and the Code of Menu, believed in the one and tbllowed the commands of the other. f Ito number of such could never have been very large, for to hold the pure Aryan faith it was needful to possess a knowledge of the Aryan 1~ tongue, and, for three thousand years, Sanscrit has been a dead lan- guage. It is probable, nay, almost certain, that it ~vas through the in- fluence of some of these learned Brahmins that the Persians (Par- sees) were made welcome in undo- stan, as a people abominating idols, and believing in the Sun and in Fire. One only condition was demand- ed as the price of the freest liberty to exercise their own peculiar re- ligionthat they should never slay nor eat the flesh of a cow. The pledge thus given has been most faithfully kept; indeed, in the lapse of centnries, the cow has come to be regarded by the Parsees in a light as sacred as by the Hindus, perhaps even more so. Although the cow is the only sacred animal of the Hin dus reverenced by the Parsees, for they pay no special regard to the monkey or the other animal divnities of their neighbors, they are the protectors of the whole animal kingdom, dogs and pigeons being their most esteemed protJq~s. Bombay is the paradise of both the bird and the quadruped. At certain hours of the day, at feeding-time, it is almost impossible to walk or drive through the streets without treading on several of these birds, rendered fearless by long-continued immunity from harm. On the green, as the open space in the center of the fort is per excellence styled, the intensely bright sky is clouded by the countless hlue wings swooping down for their food. Statis- ticians have frequently demonstrated the enor- mous waste of human food that occurs daily on this one spot. Enough, they assert, to feed a whole village of human panpers; but the Par- sees persist in their whim, for it has nothing to do with their religion, in spite of the pleadings of political economy. If there he some poet- ical feeling at the bottom of their love for their BOMBAY AN!) ITS ENVIRONS. 7t 30 68 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. pigeons, which, we may say here, are the same species as our own wild-pigeon, there can be no tittle of such sentimeut about the dogs that infest the city. Nowhere else in the world can he seen such specimens of the genus cams. The dogs of Pera and Constantinople are sleek thorough-breds compared with the pyqees of Bombay. I)uring daylight they are hidden away in holes and sewers, hut an hour after sunset they sally out in search of companion- ship and food, and make night hideous with their yelping and growling. The jackals of Calcutta are sufllcieutlv irritating to susceptible nerves, but their noise is music itself by the side of the Parsees four-legged friends. There are very strin~ent laws in force against interfering with these animals, and one of the most serious riots that ever took place in Bom- l)ay had its origin in the slaving of one or more dogs by some English sailors. r1~he Parsee population worked themselves up into a furious state of excitement, attacking with sticks and stones every European that showed himself, until the authorities were obliged to call out the military, and an English regiment was marched into the fort., from their barracks on the adjoin- ing island of Coolaha. The riot occurred in the month of May, the hottest season of the year, and several of the soldiers were killed by coup de soleil in their short march of a mile and a quarter. The disturbance was eventually quell- ed, but not without further loss of life. This A PARSES LADY AND hER DAUGhTER. BOMBAY AND THE PARSEES. 69 occurred twenty-five years ago, and the dogs have been since unmolested. The Parsees are in gen- eral a law-abiding race, but there are a considera- ble number of scallawags among them, and a Parsee rowdy is a perfect Eastern prototype of a Bowery hoy, and is equally ready for a free fight. That vivacious travel- er and acute observer, Sir Charles Weutwom th Dilke,* says of the Parsees: Tra- ding as they do in every city between Galle and As- trakhan, but every where attached to the English rule, they bear to us (the English) the relative posi- tion that the Greeks occn- pv toward Russia. This is very exactly true; at the same time it must be observed that the fire- worshipers have the ad- vantage of character for mercantile honesty and fair dealing, as compared with the Greeks of the Russian Empire. No body of men stand higher in mercantile credit than do the Parsee merchants of India. They are sharp, shrewd traders, with a spice of the Down- Easter, but, like the Yan- kee, however close at a bargain, they are scrupo- lens in fulfilliug a contract once entere(l upon. Much of both the foreign and do- mestic trade of Bombay is controlled by Parsees, whose names may not ap- pear as merchants in the local directory, but who, in the capacity of brokers to British and foreign firms, exercise an almost un- bounded influence over the commerce of the country. Some of these men are extremely wealthy, and live in princely style. They are fond of handsome equipages, and are good judges of horse-flesh. Seldom or never seen in public with their wives, they apl)ear proud of their children, on ~vhom they lavish the most expensive jewelry and dresses. Very little is kno~vn of the domestic lives of Parsees or other natives by the English in In- dia., for there is neither communion nor sym- Greater Britain, by Sir C. Weutwortli Duke, Bart. Harper and Brotliars. 1869. pathy between the Anglo-Indian and the peo- ide of the country. In business, whether be- tween man and man, or the governed and the governors, they may meet frequently, hut there is no society common to both which has any other object than business. The Anglo-Ia- dian merchant who trusts his most important business arrangements to his native banker or broker, and who for years has seen that trust- ed agent every day of the week at his office, very possibly does not know whether the man has one wife or half a dozen, and is wholly ignorant of time sentiments of that individual A PARSES. OF lIOMIIAY. 70 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. upon any other subject than dry-goods, bills of exchange, and kindred matters of mercantile existence. What of Parsee life is apparent on the sur- face amounts to this: that a well-to-do Par- see, who drives a handsome turn-out in which he may seat his male friends, always keeps an equally handsome carriage for the female mem- bers of his family and their feminine acquaint- ances; that if the male Parsee has his coun- try house, in which to entertain his friends, the wife has her villa for her own special pleasure. When not sufficiently wealthy to have a villa of his own, a Parsee clubs with several others of the same standing in point of wealth, and together they rent a house, to which the mem- berg retire after the labors of the day, and spend hours in social and very noisy intercourse. On certain days these country places are given up to the wives and families of the members, who enjoy themselves in much the same fashion as their lords and masters. When thus occupied, the house and grounds are exempt as Soro~is from male intrusion, excepting always the serv- ants. Parsecs, both male and female, are, if current belief on such a subject is worth any CONvECTs TO cIIaI5TTANITY. BOMBAY AND THE PARSEES. 71 thing, heavy feeders, and use the juice of the grape in no stinted measure. Parsee children are frequently very hand- some seldom, however, retaining their good looks beyond the years of maturity. The wo- men have for the ino3t part good features, spoiled, in a great many instances, by an ex- tremely sensual mouth and chin. They are all, however, credited with strict virtue of life at any rate no lapse ever reaches the ear of the outside world; and it is a fact that a Parsee prostitute is as unheard of as a Parsee beggar. The Parsee is distinguished among Orientals by a peculiarly shaped head-dress of dark spot- ted muslinthe priests alone wearing a white covering to the head. The Parsee is the only known reiigion in which fasting and celibacy are not considered as meritorious; on the contrary, Zoroaster expressly forbade them. Priests can not officiate unless they are married. They take an easy, philosophical view of life and death, believing in the resurrection, a final judgment, and a future state of rewards and punishments; but they evidently do not hold that the resurrection is to be made in the ac- tual hody which the soul has worn in this life, hut in an etherealized form of it, or, as St. Paul says, a spiritual body. Their reverence fol- lows the soul and not the flesh; and hence the corpse is disregarded by the survivors, having heen abandoned hy its own life or spiritual ten- ant. The dead hodies of the Parsees are not consumed by fire, according to the custom of the Hindus, nor interred according to the prac- tice of the Mohammedans, Christians, and Chi- nese. They hold burial, cremation, or the con- fiding of the ashes or corpse to the waters, to be a sacrilege against the elements; and they have cemeteries situated at a distance frotn any inhabited spot, such as the one on Malabar lull at Bomhay, whither the corpses are conveyed and exposed on i~n gratings, where they are soon devoured by vultures, kites, and other car- nivorous birds, that are forever hovering over these Halls of Silence. We have no statistics to refer to for the num- her of converts to Christianity from the ranks of Parsees, but from what we personally know we are constrained to believe that they are very few. Some years ago there was a good deal of excitement in Bombay over the conversion of a somewhat prominent member of the Parsee community. The excitement was not unmix- ed with indignation, ~vhen it came to be whis- pered about that the anticipated price of the conversion was a handsome white wife. The missionaries strenuously denied any such bar- gain; hut there were some very suspicious cir- cumstances in the case which certainly ju~tifled the strong helief in its truth on the part of the non-religions community. The man had al- ready a Parsee wife, whom he put away on ac- count of her idolatry, as he alleged, and who sued him in the Supreme Court for alimony. In deciding the case, the presiding judge took occasion to intimate that, if a second marriage had taken place on any such pretense, the U/iris- lieu could certainly be lirosecuted for bigamy, although a heathen might have as many wives as he pleased. After this heavy blow and great discouragement~~ nothing was ever heard of the Parsee convert. Without entering on the vexed question of the evangelization of the peoples of India, it may be said that it is very difficult to convince either Parsees or Hindus that the religion of the debauched and roistering British sailors and soldiers is very superior to the religion that controls the lives of such men as the late Cur- setjee Cowasjee, of Calcutta, and Sir Jamsetjec Jejeel)hoy, of Bombay. Few men have ever died leaving behind them a hrighter mecord of humane and charitable deeds than the last- named venerable Parsee, who, for his virtues, public spirit, and patriotism, had the unques- tioned honor of being thefirst heathen raised to the dignity of an English baronet. Sir Jam- setjee was the head of a mercantile firm largely interested in the China trade, by which he ac- cumulated an immense fortune, and which he spent in works of benevolence and public utili- ty. Among many other works he built and en- dowed two large hospitals, and constructed at his own sole expense a magnificent causeway, uniting the island of Bombay with that of Sal- sette. At the time of the Crimean War lie contributed so largely to the fund for the relief of the suffering British soldiery that Queen Victoria conferred on him the title and rank of a knight, and subsequently the higher dig- nity of a baronet, which rank descends to his heirs male. There was in this case a curi- ous difficulty, arising from the Pat-see nomnen- clature. Sir Jamsetjee Jejeebboys eldest sou, who would inherit the title, would not, accord- ing to his national custom, be called Jejeebhoy, as the first annie, or, as we style it, the given name, of a father is that retained by the son. Thus, the Baronets eldest son was called Cur- setjee Jam~etjee, and his son again aught have any other prefix to Cursetjee; so that the pat- ronvmnic would be entirely lost in time third generation. This would have made endless confusion in the heralds Office of Etigland, so a clause in the patent of creation conferred the name of Jejeebhoy, as well as the title of baron- et, on the descendants of the first knight. It has been said that the fugitive Persians first landed in Surat, a sea-port on the Gulf of Cutch, where niany of their descendants still reside, and where in their princiPal temple the fire originally brought flaming from Persia has never been extingttished. For more than one thousand years the same dim, niysterious light has flickered up toward the heavens, certainh no unfit emblem of immortality and eternity. But as Bombay has long outstripped Surat in commercial imhiortatice, the principal Parsee faniihies have fixed their residence in Bombay, although they all profess to regard Surat as more peculiarly their home. It is, perhaps, Ott this account that, wealthy and liberal as many 72 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. of the Parsees are, no place of worship has ever been built by them in Bombay at all com- mensurate with the means at their disposal and the ostentatious display of their wealth in other respects. Indeed Bombay is not re- markable for the religious edifice of any creed. There are one or two pagodas on the island possessing considerable architectural beauty, the principal of which is represented in our en- graving; hut travelers in search of the beautiful and the marvelous, although they have to quit the island of Bombay proper, have not far to go to obtain a surfeit o~f both. The celebrated caves of Elephanta, and the grottoes of Kanheri, not so famous perhaps, but equally interesting, are both within a two hours journey from Bombay Green. Bombay itself is an island situated on the western coast of Hindostan, in the six- teenth parallel of latitude. It is connected southward with the smaller island of Coolaba by a fine stone causeway, and to the larger isl- and of Salsette on the north by a similar struc- ture. Elephanta is also an island in the spacious and safe harbor which hears the name of the principal city. It is distant seven miles from the fort, and is easily approached by the native boats which ply for hire at the benders, or wharves. A pleasant row of an hour or so will bring the visitor to the beautiful island. Ascending the path leading upward through the narrow valley that separates the two long hills which constitute the island, and keeping to the left along the bend of the bill, suddenly he will find himself in an open space, and be- fore him the entrance to a rock-hewn temple, whose huge columns seem to support the ~vhole mountain that jises above. Brush-wood and wild shrubs crown the brow of the scarped face of the pro~hyry-like rock; beneath extends the fa~ade of the temple 130 feet long, with its massive pillars and pilasters, leaving three wide openings or vistas, through which the eye seeks to penetrate the gloomy grandeur of the in- terior. The temple fronts the north so that the sun gives but little help; and though there are two side-fronts identical in form with the main one (hut approached by difibrent paths), still the light within is considerably more dim than religious. Lighting a torch, the visitor passes in and onward beneath the fiat, far- spreading roof, and 1)etween the rows of pillars, whose cushion-like capitals seem pressed down by the weight of the mountain; until, passing gigantic figures sculptured in high relief on the side-walls, be at length reaches the back of the cave, and beholds in a recess a colossal figure, three heads on one bust, representing the god Siva. In other sculptures on the walls appear another four-faced godsaid by the Hindu guide, but erroneously, to be Brahma, riding on a swanthe elephant-headed Ganesa, and a company of nymphs or celestial choristers. But the presiding deity is Siva, the god alike of destruction and reproduction, and incidents of his life are sculptured around. In one group he appears in a hermaphrodite form, with one breast, and holding a trident; in an- other he appears as the destroyer, and wearing a necklace of human skulls, with the venomous serpent the cobra, or hooded snake, before him, and brandishing a sword in one of his four hands, while the victim of his wrath lies crushed before him. The ~aXXem appear in one of the side apartments, and serve as still BOMBAY AND TIlE PARSEES. 73 further proof that this great cave temple was temples of India, and so numerous are these the work of a people devoted to the Siva-wor- that not less than forty distinct groups of them ship. It is polytheistic Hinduism with Siva are to be found, comprehending about a thou in the nscendaut. sand individual specimens. All these rock Elephanta is probably the oldest of the cave strt~cturcs are connected with one or o:her of 74 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the religions of IndiaBuddhist, Jam, orBrah- century before Christ, few of these cave struc- minicalbut four-fifths of them are not tern- tures can lay claim to any great antiquity. pIes, but viliaras, or monasteries, for the once Those at Kauheri, given in our engravings, are numerous priesthood of Buddha. As Gotama, generally credited to the second century of the the founder of Buddhism, lived in the sixth Christiau era. BOMBAY AND THE PARSEES. The grottoes of Kanheri are not so easy of access as the caves of Elephanta. The visitor leaves Bombay by railroad; and, if he has had good advice, he will have made arrangements for ponies, or a palkie-gharrie, to meet him at Bhan- (looj),a station seven niiles from the caves. Even then the journey is by no means a very pleas- ant one, for the path lies through a dense jungle. After passing through this, precipitous rocks are seen covering the hill-sides; and in these precipices are excavations, for the most part rising in stories above one another, connected 1w flights of steps cut in the face of the reck. These vikroas consist of a central hail, sup- ported by from four to twenty, or even more, lillars, with small cells all around it for the priests, and a sanctuary containing a~ image of Buddha. Here occurs the curious spectacle of a rock-hewn temple in the exact form of a Christiau church, but with two colossal statues of Buddha on either side of the portico. And it is pleasing to note that Art ~vent with the Buddhist monk into his rock halls, in some of ~vhich the fresco paintings on the walls remain fresh as the day they were limnued, represent- ilig the manners and customs of India flf~een or sixteen hundred years ago. Not at Kanheri, hut in some of the older rock halls, not only the walls and roofs, hut even the pillars, are wholly covered with stucco, and ornamented with painting. On the walls are extensive compositions of figures and landscapes; on pil- lars, single detached figures, representing either Buddha or Buddhist saints; while the paintings on the roof are almost invariably architectural frets and scrolls, often of extreme benmt~ and elegance, rivaling many of those at Pompeii arid the Baths of Titus. No eye regards these l)leasant frescos now. This frailest of the arts has here seen a whole religion pass away hefore it, like a scroll, from the land of its birth. Priests and worshipers have alike departed. Buddha himself is a for- gotten nanme in India, although once he was adored from the Ilimnalaymis to Ceylon. These rock temples have long survived the worship which iuspired their constructors, and promise to outlast even Hinduism itself. ma fILL Oi KA20Iaam. 76 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. SONG OF FIRE. SOMETIME prisoned at the centre, with my throes I shake the sphere; Through the snowy-topped volcanoes at the surface I appear; Then I burst through chains that hind me, startle mortals with my power, Over prairies wide I scurry, feed on forests, towns (levour Strike the ships midway in ocean, and the teeming towns devour. FIRE they call me. I am father of the granite rocks that lie Ages deep heteath the mountains, unperceived of mortal eye; At my breath they sprang to heing, at my touch their crystals came, That were merely shapeless atoms ere I kissed them with my flame Ere with ardor I embraced them, ere I kissed them with my flame. Rarest gems of countless value, nuggets of the yellow gold That, through all the lime historic, men and empires has controlled, And the grim and swarthy iron, conqueror on land and sea, With the many meaner metals, owe their birth and shape to me Gleaming ores and dazzling crystals owe their birth and shape to me. When the rolling of the thunder strikes the trembling wretches dumh, When the visioIl-blindin~ lightning rends the murky clouds, I cone. Fear attends me, horror after, rwu routid me wide I cast; Men my name with bated breathing mutter when my steps have passed Gazing voiceless on the ashes where my terrible steps have passed. Rear they palaces of beauty, fair without and rare within, Stores of baud-work, filled with fabrics, wealth and profits hard to win, Temples grand, with costly altars, where the wretch for sin atones I appear, and they are ruins, shapeless heaps of blackened stones Molten metal, crumbled columns, timbers charred, and hlackened stones.

Thomas Dunn English English, Thomas Dunn Song of Fire 76-78

76 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. SONG OF FIRE. SOMETIME prisoned at the centre, with my throes I shake the sphere; Through the snowy-topped volcanoes at the surface I appear; Then I burst through chains that hind me, startle mortals with my power, Over prairies wide I scurry, feed on forests, towns (levour Strike the ships midway in ocean, and the teeming towns devour. FIRE they call me. I am father of the granite rocks that lie Ages deep heteath the mountains, unperceived of mortal eye; At my breath they sprang to heing, at my touch their crystals came, That were merely shapeless atoms ere I kissed them with my flame Ere with ardor I embraced them, ere I kissed them with my flame. Rarest gems of countless value, nuggets of the yellow gold That, through all the lime historic, men and empires has controlled, And the grim and swarthy iron, conqueror on land and sea, With the many meaner metals, owe their birth and shape to me Gleaming ores and dazzling crystals owe their birth and shape to me. When the rolling of the thunder strikes the trembling wretches dumh, When the visioIl-blindin~ lightning rends the murky clouds, I cone. Fear attends me, horror after, rwu routid me wide I cast; Men my name with bated breathing mutter when my steps have passed Gazing voiceless on the ashes where my terrible steps have passed. Rear they palaces of beauty, fair without and rare within, Stores of baud-work, filled with fabrics, wealth and profits hard to win, Temples grand, with costly altars, where the wretch for sin atones I appear, and they are ruins, shapeless heaps of blackened stones Molten metal, crumbled columns, timbers charred, and hlackened stones. SONG OF FIRE. 77 Not alone on land I smite them; but with red, devouring ups On the ocean sate my hunger with their richly freighted ships; Swarthy sailors, pallid women, pray in vain for mercy there, While my crackling and my roaring swell their chorus of despair While [ dance fiom deck to mast-head to their chorus of despair. In the densely crowded city, without pity I nifright Startled wretches roused from slumber in the still and somhre night. Tenement house or brown-stone palace, either is the same to me; If they manage to subdue me, gloomy will their triumph be Toppled walls upon my foemen tokens of my vengeance be. Yet malign I am not always: witness for me truly when I become the humble servant of the toiling sons of men, I)rive the engine, heat the furnace, melt the ore, and soften steel Like the monarch in the story, aid the wife to cook a meal Monarch, wanderin0 from earths centre, aid the wife to cook a meal. Though they see me when the lightning strikes in wrath the lofty domes, Yet I love to cheer the dwellers in the humble cottage homes; From the hearth my flickering shadows on the wall I cast at night, While I cracklethats my laughterat the childrens wild delight As to see those tossing shadows they display their wild delight. Foe of life have mortals called mefoe to all that hreathes or stirs; Hence the terror-stricken pagans are my abject worshipers. Life! there were no life without me; and what time I shall expire All things growing, all things living, all shall pass away with fire Air, heat, motion, breath, existenceall shall pass away with fire. In the solemn day of judgment, at the awful time of doom, When all quick and dead are parted, these to light, and those to gloom, Then the earth that one time bore me, wrapped within my wild embrace, Shall behold my final splendor as I bear her out of space And we twain shall pass together, pass forever, out of space. ~! 78 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. INVEIGLING NATURE INTO A DISCLOSURE OF HER SECRETS. OTJZHNG is more wonderful than the in- pendicularly against a solid wall through a N genuity which has heen exercised hy small opening at a known distance from it scientific men, and the extent and variety of and that the action of gravitation upon the the resources which they have called into ac- ball could be suspended so that it might re- tion, for the purpose of eliciting from nature turn to the same orifice through which it had secrets which she would seem to have most ef been projected and if~e could, moreover, find fectually concealed. The method devised by any way to close the opening (it the instant that a French philosopher for measuring precisely the bull reaches it on its return, so as just to in- the time required for the passage of a ray of tercept it in its passage, and then immediately light across a limited space upon the earths open the way again for the passage of a second surface furnishes a striking example of this, ballit is evident that if the arrangement of the Some time since an observation was made in apparatus for opening and closing the orifice was California on the velocity with which the dee such as to measure precisely the time that inter- tric force is transmitted along a conducting me- vened between the changes, we should obtain diumn, by causing an electric impulse to pass from it the time required l)y the ball for its las over the ivires from San Francisco to Cam- sage to and from the wall, and so could easily bridge, in Massachusetts, and back, without determine the velocity of its motion. interruption, and noting precisely, at the IJiace This process would, for obvious reasons, be of observation, by meajas of a chronoscope, the practically impossible in the case of a material length of the period whiqh intervened between missile rebounding from a wall. We can only the instant of its departure and that of its re- imagine it, as an aid to our conceptions in ian- turn. It was found that the time required for derstauding the analogous operation in the re- this six thousand miles run ~vas eiqht-tenths of a fiection of light. For light can be so reflected second. Now the velocity of liqht is such that as to return in precisely the same path by which if a luminous impulse had left the place of oh- it came; and the precise interval necessary be- servation at the same time with the electrical tween making an opening, to allow it to pass, wave, and could have pursued the same track, it and then closing the opening to intercept its would have gone round the circnitfice times while return, may be measured and marked with as its competitor ~~as making one journey. When much accuracy as can be attained by any incas- we contemplate this almost inconceivable rate urement whatever. of motion, the idea of devising any mode of The apparatus hy which this result was oh- actually measuring with precision the time re- tamed is represented in the engravings. The quired for the passage of light across any such rapid opening and closing of a passage for the narrov space as can he made to intervene lie- light is effected by the revolution of a wheel tween any two stationed observers on the earths ~vith its periphery divided into teeth of a rect- surfaceas, for example, the length of any line angular form, with interstices between them across a plain, or the distance from one emni- of the same breadth as the teeth, as shoun in nence to anotherwould seem to be utterly Fig. 2, where a little star of light is seen in one hopeless. Still the means have been contrived of the middle interstices. for realizing it. The general arrangement of the apparatus The principle on which the apparatus was is shown in Fig. 1. The star represents a lamp constructed is this: or other powerful source of light, the rays of If we suppose that an elastic ballof ivory, which, entering the branch tube, are made to for example, or steelcould be projected per- converge by means of suitable lenses, until they Fig. 1.vELoCITY OF UO~T.

Jacob Abbott Abbott, Jacob Inveigling Nature into a Disclosure of Her Secrets 78-80

78 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. INVEIGLING NATURE INTO A DISCLOSURE OF HER SECRETS. OTJZHNG is more wonderful than the in- pendicularly against a solid wall through a N genuity which has heen exercised hy small opening at a known distance from it scientific men, and the extent and variety of and that the action of gravitation upon the the resources which they have called into ac- ball could be suspended so that it might re- tion, for the purpose of eliciting from nature turn to the same orifice through which it had secrets which she would seem to have most ef been projected and if~e could, moreover, find fectually concealed. The method devised by any way to close the opening (it the instant that a French philosopher for measuring precisely the bull reaches it on its return, so as just to in- the time required for the passage of a ray of tercept it in its passage, and then immediately light across a limited space upon the earths open the way again for the passage of a second surface furnishes a striking example of this, ballit is evident that if the arrangement of the Some time since an observation was made in apparatus for opening and closing the orifice was California on the velocity with which the dee such as to measure precisely the time that inter- tric force is transmitted along a conducting me- vened between the changes, we should obtain diumn, by causing an electric impulse to pass from it the time required l)y the ball for its las over the ivires from San Francisco to Cam- sage to and from the wall, and so could easily bridge, in Massachusetts, and back, without determine the velocity of its motion. interruption, and noting precisely, at the IJiace This process would, for obvious reasons, be of observation, by meajas of a chronoscope, the practically impossible in the case of a material length of the period whiqh intervened between missile rebounding from a wall. We can only the instant of its departure and that of its re- imagine it, as an aid to our conceptions in ian- turn. It was found that the time required for derstauding the analogous operation in the re- this six thousand miles run ~vas eiqht-tenths of a fiection of light. For light can be so reflected second. Now the velocity of liqht is such that as to return in precisely the same path by which if a luminous impulse had left the place of oh- it came; and the precise interval necessary be- servation at the same time with the electrical tween making an opening, to allow it to pass, wave, and could have pursued the same track, it and then closing the opening to intercept its would have gone round the circnitfice times while return, may be measured and marked with as its competitor ~~as making one journey. When much accuracy as can be attained by any incas- we contemplate this almost inconceivable rate urement whatever. of motion, the idea of devising any mode of The apparatus hy which this result was oh- actually measuring with precision the time re- tamed is represented in the engravings. The quired for the passage of light across any such rapid opening and closing of a passage for the narrov space as can he made to intervene lie- light is effected by the revolution of a wheel tween any two stationed observers on the earths ~vith its periphery divided into teeth of a rect- surfaceas, for example, the length of any line angular form, with interstices between them across a plain, or the distance from one emni- of the same breadth as the teeth, as shoun in nence to anotherwould seem to be utterly Fig. 2, where a little star of light is seen in one hopeless. Still the means have been contrived of the middle interstices. for realizing it. The general arrangement of the apparatus The principle on which the apparatus was is shown in Fig. 1. The star represents a lamp constructed is this: or other powerful source of light, the rays of If we suppose that an elastic ballof ivory, which, entering the branch tube, are made to for example, or steelcould be projected per- converge by means of suitable lenses, until they Fig. 1.vELoCITY OF UO~T. INVEIGLING NATURE INTO A DISCLOSURE OF HER SECRETS. 79 fall upon the inclined glass M, by which a por- tion of them are turned into the long part of the tube. This long arm points in the direc- tion across the country, toward the eminence on which the other part of the apparatus is placed. Only a portion of the rays are reflected by the plain glass, for it is not silvere(l, and so does not act perfectly as a mirror. A sufficient portion, however, of the beam is turned by the polished surface of the glass to answer the pur- pose intended. The reason ~vhy the glass is not silvered, so as to reflect a larger portion of the rays, ~vill appear presently. The rays continue their convergence after reflection, as shown by the dotted lines within the tube in the engraving, till they come to a focus, and then diverge again, and pass as they issue from the tube through another lens, by which they are made parallel. In this condi- tion they traverse the intervening country, be- tween the two observers, for a distance of sev- eral miles, to the remote station, ~vhere the oth- er portion of the apparatus, shown on the left in the engraving, has been previously fixed. This other portion consists of a tube closed by a plain mirror at the remote end of it. The ray of light, after traversing the intermediate country, enters this tube, is reflected by the mirror, am~l then returns in the same path by which it came, re-eaters the tube from which it issued, is made to converge by the lens at die end of it, as shown in the engraving, and After passing the focal point reaches the in- dined glass which first received it from the lamp. This glass, of course, reflects a portion of the returning light back toward the lamp; but, not being silvered, it allows a considerable portion of it to pass through to the end, where the beam, after being suitably prepared on its way by lenses, is received by the eye of the observer. The toothed wheel, together with the clock- work of multiplying wheels by which it may be made to revolve with any required velocity, is seen in its place in front of the inclined glass, and at, or very near, the focus of the transmit- ted beam of light. If now the wheel is sup- posed to be at rest, and is in such a position that one of the ititerstices between the teeth is in the centre of the tube, so that the, slender filament of light which the beam forms when near the focus can pass on its way out, and also repass on its return, the eye at the end of the tube will see the light from the lamp reflected from the distant mirror afier ~t has had time to traverse the whole distance between the two stations twicethat is, in going and returning. The light ~vould obviously pass in a continued stream so long as the wheel remained at rest in such a position as to leave the passage open, and the observer would have upon the retina of his eye a steady and continuous image of the light. But now let us suppose that the wheel be- gins to revolve. In this case the light, instead of passing continuously in a uniform stream, will form a successwn of flashes, its passage be- ing intercepted, and its way opened again, al- ternately, in rapid succession, by the passing of the teeth and the open spaces between them, in the periphery of the wheel. Now the thing to be done, in making an oh- servation on the velocity of light ~vith this ap- i)amatus, is to cause the wheel to revolve ~vith the degree of speed necessary to produce this effect, namely, that each flash of light shall go to the distant mirror and return in precisely the time that is rcqubvd to bring a tooth o/ the wheel up into its pot/i and intercept jt in its pas- sage beck toward the eye. If in this way the Jirst flash which went out through the first interstice would be intercepted by the first tooth, the sec- ond ~vould be intercepted by the second tooth, the third by the third, and so on all around the ~vheelprovided always that the rotation of the wheel continued uniform. TIme result would be that no light whatever would come to the eve of the observer. If, on the other hand, the revolutions of the wheel were not so timed as that there should always be a tooth ready in the passage to intercept every flash in its re- turn, a greater or less Portion of the light would make its way through to. the eye, and vision more or less distinct ~vould follow. Of course when the wheel is in motion a part of the outgoing light would be intercepted by the intervention of the teeth, which would allow the transmission of only a succession of flashes, equal in amount to half the quantity of light that would otherwise pass. The intermittent effect, however, would not be cominutmicated to the eye of the observer. The intervals would be too brief for the eye to take cognizance of them, on account of ~vhat is termed the persist- (ace o cision. The eye would see the star of light as before, only somewhat dimmed, as shown in Fig. 3. Fig. 2.WHEN THE WHEEL IS AT REST. Fig. 3.wume THE MOTION DOSS NOT INTERCEPT THE LIGHT. Fig. 4.WuEN TIlE abuT iS INTERCEPTED. 80 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. When, at length, the rotation reached the point necessary to cause each tooth to catch and intercept on its return the flash which went out through the opening which preceded it, the light would entirely disappear, and the appear- ance would be as represented in Fig. 4. To determine, then, the velocity of light by this instrument, all that is necessary is to know the distance between the two stations, to l)lace the light, and then by the proper adjustments so to regulate the position of the tubes as to direct the beam into the tube at the remote station, and to receive it in the other on its re- turn, and then gr~dnally to increase the rapid- ity of the revolution of the wheel, until each tooth shall arrive in succession in the axis of the tube just in tune to intercept on its return the flash which was allowed to pass through the interstice which preceded it. In this way, although the light is allowed to go out in flashes to the remote station, and to return after being reflected to the tube from which it issued, it is all intercepted there, nnd none comes to the eye of the observer. The mechanism connected with the ~vheel- work shows, by two dials, each with its index, seen at the side, how many revolutions the wheel makes in a given time; and from this, taken in connection with the number of teeth on the wheel, and the distance between the two stations, the rate at which the luminous undu- lations must have moved is easily calculated. It can easily be conceived how delicate the mechanism, how nice the adjustments, and how extremely careful and skillful the manipulation must be, to obtain any satisfactory results ~vith such an apparatus as this. The method was devised by a French philosopher, Fizean, many years sinee, and an experiment was made by means of it in the neighborhood of Paris. The two eminences which were chosen as places of observation were Montmartre and Suresne, the stations being about five miles apart. It may, at first thought, seem surprising that the undulations formed in the luminiferous ether, or whatever the motions may be that are formed by the going and the returning beam, can traverse, in contrary directions, p~ecisely the same path, for so long a distance, without the least interference with each other. But this is no more wonderful than that of the thousands of lights in the girandoles and chandeliers of a ball-room, or other brilliantly illuminated apart- menteach one can find its way across the in- tervening space, undisturbed in the most deli- cate inflections of its movement by any interfer- ence of the rest. In the experiment made with the appalatus of Fizean, in the vicinity of Paris, it was found that the wheel by which the light ~as allowed to pass out through the open spaces in the pe- riphevy must be made to revolve at a little more than twelve times in a second, to cause the tooth following each opening to intercept the flash which issued from that opening on its return. There were seven hundred and twenty teeth in the whole periphery, and by the proper calculation made from these elements, including the ascertained distance between the two stations, the velocity of light was found to be about 190,000 miles in a second. The sub- stantial correctness of this result was confirmed by its near agreement with a determination of the velocity of light that had been previously made by computations from certain observed astronomical phenomena; and this correspond- ence has since been made much more near in con- sequence of certain discoveries recently made, which have considerably modified sotne of the astronomical data. ANTE RO S. By THE AUTHOR OF Guy LmNGsToNE, Swoiw AND GowN, SANS MERCI, BREAKING A BUTTERFLY, ETC. CHAPTER XXV. DOUBTLESS, on that October afternoon, Lena Atherstone made a disagreeable dis- covery; but you ar~ not to suppose that she thenceforth incessantly brooded over it. She had a dauntless temper of her own, and the mere knowledge of impending danger was suf- ficient to arouse the stubbornness inherent in her blood; certainly she acknowledged now that the links binding her fate to Caryl Glynnes were not so completely severed as she had fan- cied, and that he had not been far from the truth when he feared all was not over be- tween them; nevertheless, supposing that this were so, and that they met ever so often, was there any reason that she should betray her- self to others, and, most of all, to him? Thou- sands of women have carried such a secret to their graves; thousands, doubtless still walking blamelessly through life, are laden with the same; and why should she be weaker than her fellows? While she mused on these things there rose up in her, not seldom, a spirit akin to defiance. From one question only she shrank in fear and shame. How would it fare with her husband if he could guess the truth? It seemed impossibleutterly impossible to take him into her confidence now; and yet the time had been when this had not seemed so hard. Lena was blessedor afflicted, if you willwith a remarkably good memory. She could have repeated, almost word for word, what had passed when she plighted her troth to Ralph Atherstone.

The Author of 'Guy Livingstone' The Author of 'Guy Livingstone' Anteros 80-87

80 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. When, at length, the rotation reached the point necessary to cause each tooth to catch and intercept on its return the flash which went out through the opening which preceded it, the light would entirely disappear, and the appear- ance would be as represented in Fig. 4. To determine, then, the velocity of light by this instrument, all that is necessary is to know the distance between the two stations, to l)lace the light, and then by the proper adjustments so to regulate the position of the tubes as to direct the beam into the tube at the remote station, and to receive it in the other on its re- turn, and then gr~dnally to increase the rapid- ity of the revolution of the wheel, until each tooth shall arrive in succession in the axis of the tube just in tune to intercept on its return the flash which was allowed to pass through the interstice which preceded it. In this way, although the light is allowed to go out in flashes to the remote station, and to return after being reflected to the tube from which it issued, it is all intercepted there, nnd none comes to the eye of the observer. The mechanism connected with the ~vheel- work shows, by two dials, each with its index, seen at the side, how many revolutions the wheel makes in a given time; and from this, taken in connection with the number of teeth on the wheel, and the distance between the two stations, the rate at which the luminous undu- lations must have moved is easily calculated. It can easily be conceived how delicate the mechanism, how nice the adjustments, and how extremely careful and skillful the manipulation must be, to obtain any satisfactory results ~vith such an apparatus as this. The method was devised by a French philosopher, Fizean, many years sinee, and an experiment was made by means of it in the neighborhood of Paris. The two eminences which were chosen as places of observation were Montmartre and Suresne, the stations being about five miles apart. It may, at first thought, seem surprising that the undulations formed in the luminiferous ether, or whatever the motions may be that are formed by the going and the returning beam, can traverse, in contrary directions, p~ecisely the same path, for so long a distance, without the least interference with each other. But this is no more wonderful than that of the thousands of lights in the girandoles and chandeliers of a ball-room, or other brilliantly illuminated apart- menteach one can find its way across the in- tervening space, undisturbed in the most deli- cate inflections of its movement by any interfer- ence of the rest. In the experiment made with the appalatus of Fizean, in the vicinity of Paris, it was found that the wheel by which the light ~as allowed to pass out through the open spaces in the pe- riphevy must be made to revolve at a little more than twelve times in a second, to cause the tooth following each opening to intercept the flash which issued from that opening on its return. There were seven hundred and twenty teeth in the whole periphery, and by the proper calculation made from these elements, including the ascertained distance between the two stations, the velocity of light was found to be about 190,000 miles in a second. The sub- stantial correctness of this result was confirmed by its near agreement with a determination of the velocity of light that had been previously made by computations from certain observed astronomical phenomena; and this correspond- ence has since been made much more near in con- sequence of certain discoveries recently made, which have considerably modified sotne of the astronomical data. ANTE RO S. By THE AUTHOR OF Guy LmNGsToNE, Swoiw AND GowN, SANS MERCI, BREAKING A BUTTERFLY, ETC. CHAPTER XXV. DOUBTLESS, on that October afternoon, Lena Atherstone made a disagreeable dis- covery; but you ar~ not to suppose that she thenceforth incessantly brooded over it. She had a dauntless temper of her own, and the mere knowledge of impending danger was suf- ficient to arouse the stubbornness inherent in her blood; certainly she acknowledged now that the links binding her fate to Caryl Glynnes were not so completely severed as she had fan- cied, and that he had not been far from the truth when he feared all was not over be- tween them; nevertheless, supposing that this were so, and that they met ever so often, was there any reason that she should betray her- self to others, and, most of all, to him? Thou- sands of women have carried such a secret to their graves; thousands, doubtless still walking blamelessly through life, are laden with the same; and why should she be weaker than her fellows? While she mused on these things there rose up in her, not seldom, a spirit akin to defiance. From one question only she shrank in fear and shame. How would it fare with her husband if he could guess the truth? It seemed impossibleutterly impossible to take him into her confidence now; and yet the time had been when this had not seemed so hard. Lena was blessedor afflicted, if you willwith a remarkably good memory. She could have repeated, almost word for word, what had passed when she plighted her troth to Ralph Atherstone. ANTEROS. 81 She knew that she had began a half confes- sioa then, and that only slight encouragement was needed from him to make it complete. That encouragement had not been given. I dont wish to hear another word, he had said. Nevertheless, it was her duty, her bounden dutyshe recognized that only too plainly now to have spoken out then, though he had prayed her more earnestly to forbear. Even thus, the course of things might not have been altered; but, surely, this ought, then an4 there, to have been put to proof. She ought to have told him that the chasm dividing her from Caryl Glynne, if it were wide and deep enough to last through all eternity, had only been open since the rising of the sun that had barely set, and that her hand had scarcely ceased to thrill with the pressure of his fingers, when he bade her good-by. Says the old rhyme: It is good to be merry and wise, It is good to be faithful and true, It is good to be off with the old love Before you are on with the new. Ay! so; but better and wiser still, at certain seasons, to avow how the old love ended, even though the lips should quiver and the cheeks should burn. When confronted with the anonymous letter she had borne herself more bravely; but the amends were made something late, and the first fault was not quite blotted out by Ralphs perfect trust and forgivenessthis she knew right well. Once again she might have freed her soul the day they rode homeward from Grandmanoir. How fair these lost chances now appeared to Lenaso fair that she could scarcely realize how she let them slip! And, as often happens in these cases, the mord fully she realized that it might never be in her power to bestow upon her husband any thing like perfect love, the more freely she confessed his entire worthiness thereof. It was too hard to receive day by day fresh proofs of his trust and tenderness, and to feel that she could only repay these with a re- solve to do him at least no wrong; but, in spite of all this, it would have baffled an unpreju- diced observer to detect any alteration in Lady Atherstones spirits, dr any constraint in her mannsr, either in society, or, what is much more to the purpose, xvhan alone with her hus- band; indeed, as she grew familiarized with her danger, it naturally appeared less formi- dable; and as weeks passed on, bringing no word of Caryl Glynne, a feeling of half-securi- ty came over her once more; and when Cissy Devereux questioned her about this famous cousin of Mrs. Malcolms, she answered that he was decidedly handsome in a peculiar style, and very agreeable, most people thought, when he exerted himself, so unconcernedly that the other suspected absolutely nothing. As. for Ralph himself, there was an increase rather than an abatement in his great content; for the misgiving of last year, as to his own un- popularity being visited on his fair wife, no lon- ger galled him. Though the Duke of Devor- VOL. XLILNo. 24T.6 goil still stood on his dignity, and waxed no warmer in his courtesy, Loamshire, as a whole, began rather to repent of its unsociability. When it was bruited abroad that Lady De Montfort had not only presented the bride, but constantly chaperoned her, people began to think that they had listened to vague rumors overhastily, and were rather disposed now to make amends for their previous shortcomings. To be sure, Lady Atherstone might have chosen a safer and staider confidante than wayward Cissy Devereux; but this could scarcely stand as an article of accusation. In fine, those in the county who were most prone to think evil of their neighbors were content to maintain an armed neutrality toward Templestowe. Here it is fitting that we should take up a thread of this story that has been dropped for some time past, and see how it has fared with Caryl Glynne. It was written, you will remember, that, on the day when he said good-by to Lena Shafton, a certain change was worked in him; and this change was more lasting than he himself would have deemed possible. It was not in his na- ture to fret or pine; but the feeling of loneli- ness that abode with him was irksome, never- thelessso irksome that he waxed restless and eager for any change that would divert the cur- rent of his thoughts, and prevent him from con- ferring with himself. Besides this, he did not care greatly to sit still and watch the progress of Lord Atherstones wooing. So he began to cast about for a pretext for absenting himself, not for a few days or weeks, but long enough to allow fresh interests to grow in the place of those that had been rooted up. And it was not long before such an occasion presented it- self. Perhaps Caryl Glynne was not quite so popular with his own as with the other sex, and the set in which he moved was not the most select; nevertheless, there were always plenty of men of fair position ready to welcome, if not to court, his company. The scandals attaching to his name, however dark in a mor- al point of view, had not hitherto touched his I honor, according to the modern interpretation of the word. After spending his own patri- mony, he had doubtless helped others to spend theirs in all manner of riotous living; but, so far as the world knew, had never yet acted as decoy, or received jackals wages. There was knitting of brows and shrugging of shoulders among usurers, Jew and Gentile, at the mere mention of his name; but none of his fellows had suffered financially through Caryl Glynne so as to make them cry aloud in the streets; and when he was in banishment he could walk where he listed without fear of meeting a more reproachful face than that of a credulous trades- man. Nigel Lord Glenfalloch had very recently suc- ceeded to an ancient coronet and, a vast pat- rimony. He was a bashful, soft-hearted creat- ure, accustomed from his infancy to obey rath- er than to command; for the deceased peer 82 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. was fanatic as well as miserly, and ruled his household in the good old Scots fashion; so that when the fetters were suddenly broken the heir could not at once recover the freedom of his limbs, and found it hard to walk alone. You may easily conceive that of friends able and willing to guide the young Earls tottering footsteps there was no lack; but, besides being shy, he was somewhat capricious in his likes and dislikes, and, though always grateful for such proffers of service, generally shrank from them. On the mothers side he was distantly connected with the Glynnes; and, from the very first, he took strangely to Caryl; indeed, the latter was one of those lucky persons to be found in both sexes, who seem fated to exer- cise over their weak brethren and sisters such an influence and dominion as it is not given to greater and grander natures to attain; and they accomplish this not by dint of arrogance of man- ner or imperiousness of will, but rather by ac- cepting the position in a placid matter-of-course way, ten times more effective than self-assertion. In Caryls case, perhaps, much was owing to personal prestige. People of sterner stuff than an imaginative boy were apt to be powerfully impressed by beauty that was matchless in type, if not in degree. The mildest tale not ballasted with a self- evident moral would have been deemed con- traband at Eeriedale Castle; but on the upper shelves of the solemn library, barely within ladder-reach, were ensconced certain volumes, worm-eaten, musty, and yellow, betraying the romantic tastes of some defunct Lady Grisel or Janet; and in poring over these furtively Nigel had found a delight scarcely to be understood by our fifth-form philosophers, for whose palate home-made sensation stuff is food too tame. Now there was set before him, in flesh and blood, the choicest of his knightly ideals. More- over, to the neopbyte, whose pulse was always a-flutter with pleasure, admiration, or surprise, the others unruffled self-possession and languid ~ insouciance seemed almost sublime. And Caryl, on his part, was attracted by his innocent kins- man, irrespective of any interested views: in- deed, sordid calculation was not among his vices; and he might have thriven better if he would h~ ye looked more often and more careful- ly ahead. A man of the world, not completely jaded, generally finds in Marquis Cizerubin, for a while at least, pretty good company. It was diversion enough to Caryl to watch the devel- oping of that fresh faculty of enjoyment, which with himself had vanished more rapidly than even his patrimony. Though he had no great reverence for boyhood, he had the grace to ab- stain from throwing Nigel into the way of grave temptation; and, more than this, without pos- ing as a Mentor, he contrived to keep the other clear of divers pleasant snares laid for him by others. He guessed how it would be whispered abroad that Glynne was getting cunning in his old age, and meant to keep this pig~on for his own plucking; but, as he had never been turn- ed back by fear of the worlds talk when he meant ill, it was scarce likely to trouble him when for once he meant well and honestly. So things stood when the great disappointment of his life lighted on Caryl. To his lawyer and physician he confessed himself at need; but beyond these his confidences had never ex- tended. So, as you may suppose, he gave no hint of his trouble to Glenfalloch; but the lat- ter, who was by no means so simple as he seemej, felt certain that something was amiss; and, one morning when they were breakfast- ing together, he actually risked the point-blank question as to his cousins health. Glynne did not answer at once; and while he paused he looked absently out of the window at the sullen mist, just beginning to settle into a slow, steady rain. lam not particularly well, he said at last; but its no case for the doctor. I havent slept much lately, an~ thats safe to throw the nerves out of gear. After all its what any idle man ought to expect who has lixed his life, if he spends a whole winter in this infernal cli- mate, with no hunting to keep his liver in order. Then why dont you go abroad ? Nigel asked. I would. Caryl gazed for a second or two at the kind, eager face over against him. And then his own lighted up as if a sud~n thought had struck him. You wouldgo any where, Glen? I be- lieve you mean it, and Ive half a mind to take you at your word. What do you say to a long cruise; not a mere Mediterranean potter, hut a stretch all round the Levant, taking the Moren and Thessaly on our way? Youre bound to yacht, of course; and youll be all the better for some practice before you hoist bunting of your own. There are several good, safe boats to be hired just now. Neale would let us have the Selini as long as we liked for a considera- tion. Shes a safe boat, big and steady enough to carry a bishop, and shes nearly in sea-going trim now. Theres nothing like travel for opening the mind; and those gals cheeks will be rather improved by a little tanning. As for the costnot t t that matters muchI really believe youd ave money by the trip, though you 11 have to find me in board and lodging. Do you like the idea ? The other sprang up with his eyes sparkling, and his face in a glow. Like it? That was all he said; but it was enough to clench the bargain. The Earl of Glenfalloch, being gifted with a fine constitution, a fathomless purse, and an easy temper, may still anticipate more enjoy- ment than usually falls to the lot of mortals; yet it is scarce likely that he will ever again feel so simply and entirely happy as he did throughout that long sea-faring. As, from first to last, he left it absolutely to Caryl to decide where they should anchor, and AINTEROS. 83 ~vhither they should steer, the usual differences of opinion on these points could hardly occur; but that, during all these months, neither should have wearied of the others society was passing strange; for, though they picked up en route sev- eral chance companionsfriends of Glynne these only took passage with them from port to port; so that the ate-atate was virtually almost unbroken. To be sure, they were both rather of a silent turn, which may partially account for the harmony. A great talker, with ever so little advantage of seniority, will sooner or later wax argumentative, possibly even didactic; and, rather than sail with such a one, I, at least, would prefer to cast in my lot with the sages of Gotham; ay! though the weathering should look lowering to wind~vard. However, it concerns us not to follow the pair on their wanderings. Early in the spring they began to loiter home- ward by easy stages; and at Naples they chanced upon the Malcolms. Family ties sat some~vhat lightly upon Glynue; but this especial cousin was rather a pet of his, and the husband, too, impressed him favorably; so he consented read- ily enough to bear them company by land so far north as Florence, meeting the Selini again at Leghorn. Glenfalloch, of course, was agreeable, as usual. It was all new ground to him, and he could scarcely have visited it under better au- spices; for the Corso and the Cascine were a~ familiar to Caryl as Pall Mall or Rotten Row; and, if too indolent himself to play cicerone, he could always map out the days work for the others; and Nigel had no need to be ashamed of his enthusiasm in presence of Emily Mal- colm most inveterate and indefatigable of sightseers. Altogether, the quartette was nearly as suc- cessful as the duet had been; and they were all sorry when they parted at Leghorn. It was fully two months later when the Se- lini, coasting leisurely round Spain, reached Cadiz; and there Glynne found letters from the Malcolms, telling him where the pictures, for which his taste was responsible, were to be hung. Re was more silent than usual all that afternoon, and sat on deck alone, thinking and smoking far into the night. There were few Enblish counties with which he was not more or less acquainted, and he knew enough of Loamshire to be aware that a xvell-girt man might easily compass the space dividing Er- ris~vell from Templestowe. And what then? With bringing about the co- incidence, lucky or unlucky, he had had naught to do. Life was not long enough to be always combating and counteracting chances; let them take their course. half a year of exileso he now chose to designate his pilgrimagewas suf- ficient sacrifice to any memory, bitter or sweet. Lena Shafton had chosen the good part, and he did not begrudge her wisdom its reward. But was there reason in his keeping aloof from his own kinsfolk because the pleasant places in which her lines had fallen lay somewhat near? They had parted as friends, and so they might so they shouldmeet again; and every thing would go on smoothly and soberly to the last chapters end, though the story might be a lit- tle dull and dreary. But even while he so pondered there swept across him that same foreboding that he had oncemore honest with Lena than with him- selfput into words. And even while he mut- tered cynicisms a tenderness welled up within him that with some would have found vent in tears. Alas! rather than that one of his stamp should soften in this wise, it were best that his heart should abide harder than Ailsa Craig, and his~eyes dryer than Sahara sand. , XXVI. IT was late in the afternoon, and the cozy boudoir at Erriswell was curtained close; but it was only lighted by some oak logs burning brightly. The mistress of the mansion rested on a couch drawn up near the hearth, and on a low chair at her feet sat Caryl Glynne, ar- rived an hour ago. Cousins who behave as such have usually plenty to discuss on these occasions, even if they have no confidences to exchange; and though Mr. Malcolm was never in any bodys way, it was as well, perhaps, that he had not yet returned from his hunting. Mrs. Malcolm was extolling her new home; and as a sociable neighborhood was not the least of its advantages, she naturally soon men- tioned the tenants of Templestowe. I dont say theyre the handsomest, Caryl, but theyre certainly the most picturesque con- l)le I ever saw. She makes such a superb cM- telaine, and he is exactly my, idea of a grand- master of the Temple. Dont you agree with me? You know them both by sight, at all events. Indeed, I think Lady Atherstone said she had often met you. Perhaps it was only the flicker of the fire- light; but Glynnes handsome lip seemed to quiver for a second, and then to curl. Did Lady Atherstone remember me? I almost wonder at it; for when we met often was very long ago. I know the Baron, too, well by sight; and though I never studied his face, I dare say youre right about his type. Youve rather an artistic eye, my dear; only one cant fancy a grand-master blessed with a wife. If I remember rightmy history dont go beyond Scott, to be surethat order were only allowed to love par amours. I utterly forgot that part of it. No, he wouldnt do for a Templar, after all; for you cant fancy any one prouder or fonder of his wife. Hes quite a changed person since his marriage, I believe. Was it only the flame sinking just then into dull red embers that caused the shadows to deepen so on Caryls face? 84 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Quite a changed person, he repeated. Ah! I understandhas turned his spud into a croquet-mallet, looks after the flower-garden more than the farm, and drives my lady about in a low pony-carriage. Theres nothing like the enthusiasm of a veteran, gui arbore le cotillon. And is the old mans darling as happy as the old man? If so, they must he rather a touch- ing pair. Mrs. Malcolm colored a little. Her cousin had never yet, in her presence, ventured on any license of speech; hut something in his manner now made her feel vaguely apprehen- sive, especially as she could not in the least understand it. She had lived abroad ever since her girlhood, you must recollect, and none of the rumors coupling Caryls name with Miss Shaftons had ever reached her ears. Youre quite wrong, she answered, rather coldly. I said changed, not sptdled. I can see nothing ridiculous in a man becoming soft- er and less selfish, even late in life; and Lord Atherstone, so far, has given no signs of dotage. He still keeps up his credit for hard riding; and I hear it is the prettiest sight to see him lead his wife across country. With the excep- tion of Mrs. Devereux, no woman in Loamshire goes better, they say. I fancy shes thoroughly happy; but, with these quiet, languid people, its all guess-work; though I like her best just as she is. Glynne made no immediate reply; but the rebukeif so it was intendeddid not seem greatly to disconcert him; for, as he sat silent, he smiled to himself twice or thrice. These quiet, languid people. Was it a quiet heart whose beating he had counted many a time? Were they languid eyes that never were unready to answer the messages of his own? These troublesome memories! And yet what a strong savor of aqro-dolce was with them all! Wellif she had begun her training as grande dame betimesit was best so; only, you see, the contrast was rather amusing. When he spoke again it was in quite a different tone. Mrs. Devereux, toocommonly called Cis- sy hy all who have the honor of her acquaint- ance, which I have not as yet. Id forgotten that other Loamshire celebrity; indeed, I dont remember to have seen her. On the whole, you seem to have a very lively neighborhood, almost too lively for such a quiet personage as yourself, petite cousine. Emily Malcolm felt relieved, she knew not why, at the turn in the conversation. Now theres a person that would really suit you, Caryl, she laughed, and you would suit her too; so provokingly pretty, and the most unconscionable coquette; even Robin cant help ffirting with her under my very eyes: what he does at other times Im left to imagine. Listen! I do believe that is his step. Hell be so glad to find you. He said he should never believe in your coming till you were come. The hosts welcome, though not boisterous, was abundantly cordial. He was in specially high spirits too; for the L. H. had had a really good rungalloping, if not racing, all the way; and Malcolm had kept quite in the front rank from end to end. He had wondrous nerves, and, in point of actual horsemanship, might have given a lesson to most professional break- ers; but an eye to hounds is not entirely a gift of nature, and riding to them is an art like an- other. Of all this Malcolm was ~vell aware; and, while he had still much to learn, he pre- ferred biding in the back-ground, and watching how his betters bore themselves, to contending prematurely for pride of place. On this prin- ciple he had acted throughout the graver busi- ness of life, and it was one of the secrets of his thriving; nevertheless, lie was not so modest as to let a fair chance slip, and he was proportion- ately gratified by the success of to-day. So it was all hunting-talk at first, in which Mrs. Malcolm, too, joined not unwillingly. She sympathized in most things which interested her husband; and, besides, she liked to hear about Loamshire folk and their doings. Who had gone best ?generally a difficult as well as an invidious question to answer; and seldom is the vote of praise so unanimous as when the Cheshire bard could write- Twas a sight for us all, worth a thousand, I swear, To see the Black Squire how he rode the black mare; This meed on his merits the Muse must bestow First, foremost, and fleetest from old Oulton Lowe. To-day the pace had never been so killing as to enable any one or two absolutely to single themselves out and shake off the rest; but, on the whole, Malcolm was inclined to assign the palm to Lord Atherstone. Mrs. Devereux and her pilot had made a brilliant start; but in an unlucky bend to avoida wet tussocky meadow, had lost ground which they never quite re- gained; whereas Ralph, according to his wont, taking the rough with the smooth, and the fences precisely as it pleased Heaven to send them, had cut out all the work in his own line from first to last. On this topic, indeed, Robert was al- most enthusiastic. You may laugh if you like, he said, but I call it simply a grand sighta man of his weight and years going in that fashion. Theres no hurry or flurry about it, and no harking for show; but such straight sailing throughout, and always with the cool, undeniable look on his face that it has worn before this, Ill an- swer for it, when he had four squadrons behind him instead of a score of jealous riders. Its a cavalry seat all over; but, to my mind, thats part of the pictureI wouldnt have it altered for the world. And if his hands are not as light as some peoples, theyre strong enough to save a fall pretty often, and to hold the reins like a vice when he is down. Ilowever, youll judge for yourself to - morrow, Glynne and many a day after, I hope. The stables very full and very fit, Im happy to say. ANTEROS. 85 Though Mrs. Malcolm did not laugh at her smote on the council-table with his brawny husbands rhapsody, she glanced aside at her palm, and swore, with a lowering brow, that~ cousin rather triumphantly, as who should say, as the Lord liveth, this thing should not be. Was I right or wrong a while ago? But Caryl There was growling, of course, among the ban- answered neither by word, nor frown, nor smile, dogs balked of the toothsome morsel; but none Ive heard the same thing before, he re- dared to quarrel with the strange clemency; marked. Its not for nothing, I suppose, only, afterward, it was bruited about that Oliver, that they christened him the Bruising Baron. in his youthnot so sober as his manhoodhad You dont mention Lady Atherstone, by-the-by. been helped by a Walwyn out of a shrewd scrape, Does she ride right up to such a lead? If so, and so paid his debt. The Roundheads kept a I think she deserves a certain share of credit. better memory both for friends and foes than She wasnt out to-day, the other replied, did the Cavaliers; and, after the Restoration, She rides quite wonderfully, considering that the Walwyns were not rewarded by any merit- shes had only half a seasons practice. But ed honors or revenge. Thenceforth they had though they always go straight, Im bound to tarried in their own place, neither molesting confess that the Baron has a much keener eye nor molested. They were well-read and polite for a weak place or a gate that will open, and folks, but in practical matters always rather never jumps timber when hes playing ckaperon. behind their generation; and as for making Thats only natural, surely ? any concession to the spirit of the time, they Glynne rose up, stretching himself lazily, would as soon have consented to turn their park Very natural and very proper. Now, into corn-lands. Nevertheless, they were ever Robin, if you show me your den I think Ill popular from their exceeding courtesy, and a be guilty of one small cigar before dressing- charity that made no distinction of creed. time. There were two gals in my carriage all That is the present head of the familythe the way down; and though they were affable, pale, white - haired man, moving about from and looked rather periodical, I was too bashful group to group in front of the broad stone ter- to inquire if they minded smoke. race, with an evident limp in his gait. For, as mild as he looks, ten years ago very few could show the way over Loamshire to Edmund Wal- wyn; but since he dislocated his hip he can CHAPTER XXVII. only creep about on a quiet shooting-cab, and You must follow to the covert-side once watch the find which is a dead certainty in his more. Before you condemn the iteration, re- coverts. member that to no place in a hunting county, All the other personages of note you have during the hunting season, are idlers so much met before at Hazlemereand they are little, drawn; and it is best to suit ones self to ones if any thing, changed; only the care-worn, con- company, imaginary or real. This time, set- scions look has deepened on Arthur Corbetts ting chances of sport aside, the scene itself is face since we saw it last, and there is a rest- worth inspecting. lessness in his manner, very different from the There might be found in England, perhaps, gay geniality of other days, as he strives to two or three deer-parks more extensive than engage and engross Lady Atherstones atten- Wilton; but more ancient, scarcely one. When tion, whose husband stands somewhat aloof in Graadmanoir was a bare wild, some of those conversation with Jasper Knowsley. gnarled oaks were already gray; and Wnlwyns Is Lena aware of the state of things in this took their pleasure there before a Fontenaye quarter? A knotty question. The best of crossed the narrow sea. Time had brought womenand she was not of the bestabide little change to this family. They were still, as sometimes strangely deaf and blind, when, if they were centuries ago, essentially de la viejile their ears and eyes were open, it might become rocke, gentle and kindly to a fault in their do- their duty to quench some sweet-smelling in- mestic and social relations, but stiff as steel and cense. At any rate, she appears to listen read- bitter as wormwood when it was question of ily enough to Mr. Corbetts earnest talk; and doctrine; and, though loyalest of the loyal, nev- there is certainly something confidential in her er hesitating betwixt fealty to King and fealty occasional smile. Nevertheless, she glances to Church. That they should have carried out aside like the rest, to see who are the new-coin- such principles so long and so unflinchingly, ers, as a phaeton wheels rapidly round the and yet have escaped absolute wreck in any sweep, and draws up on the skirts of the crowd. political storm, was wonderful; and even her- There is no change in the atmosphere, not etics, pondering over these things, had been even a cloud has swept across the sun; yet, in known to doubt whether Intercession was whol- an instant, every thing seems to have grown ly a vague supposition, and whether some pa- dark around her, and against the blackness one tron saint had not watched over them. The face stands out awfully clearthe face of Caryl house had been sacked during the civil wars, Glynne. and its inmates driven forth to wander for a With a mighty effort, and a sickening fear while; but their estates were never confiscated; that the effort will be apparent, Lena turns her for when there was talit thereof among those eyesaway, and stares straight to her front. So who ~vent up to divide the spoils, the Protector that, when Corbett, suddenly aware that her at- 86 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. tention is wandering, looks up appealingly, she only seems to be watching Swinton Swarbrick struggling, with frequent puffs and anathemas, to hoist himself on to the back of an elephant- ine beast, that keeps sidling away as though re- luctant to receive the unconscionable load. It is rather a diverting spectacle, yet scarce suffi- ciently so to account for the intentness of Lady Atherstones gaze. Arthur is completely puz- zled; but before he can ask a question his com- panion has left his side, and is walking her horse slowly toward the Erriswell carriage. If you have at all fathomed Lenas character you will not wonder at this impulse of hers. To certain persons passive suspense is a torture so unendurable that, if it is in their power to end it, they will do so, no matter what the risk or cost; and not seldom the rashest move is the safest, after all. Indeed, a casual observer would detect nothing unusual in Lady Atherstones manner as she ranges up to the side of the phaeton, where Mrs. Malcolm sits holding the reins while her cousin stands up to doff his over- coat. Im so glad to see you out at last, she says. I felt sure the day and the meet would tempt you; but I had no idea you would come under such escort. So you have appeared at last, Mr. Glynne. People were beginning to suppose yond pitched your tent somewhere among the Lost Tribes. After greeting Mrs. Malcolm she stretches her hand across to Caryl; and as her fingers touch, without closing around his, they do not tremble. It was admirably done, and Glyane confess- ed as much to himself afterward; though he did think she might have shown a little more feel- ing. However, his own demeanor was a tri- umph also, in its kind. Yes, Ive been a long time away, he an- swers, composedly. So long that I feel al- most like a stranger in England, and as if I ought to be introduced over again to all my ac- quaintances, especially if they have changed their names. Its rather late in the day to of- fer congratulation, Lady Atherstone, but I hope you will accept mine, even now. She bends her headperhaps a little haught ilv. You dont know my husband, I think? Id better make yon acquainted. For just then Lord Atherstone rides up and accosts Mrs. Malcolm. While they exchange salutes the two men scan each other, yet so warily withal that neither is conscious of the scrutiny. Lord Atherstone has often looked on that face be- fore; but he thinks that, till now, he has never quite realized its exceeding beauty; for Le- vantine suns have only added to the richness of its coloring, and keen sea-breezes, added to fre- quent bouts of strong exercise on shore, have braced, for a time at least, a figure apt to be ef- feminate in its languid poses. And Ralph ac- knowledges all this without a particle of dislike, discontent, or envy, just as he would acknowl- edge the perfection of any other rare master- piece of art or nature. If Glynnes apprecia- tion is not so dispassionate, it is, after a fashion, also sincere. Robin Gray! He wondered whether Lena, too, is remembering the nickname just now. Not a very burgess-like personage, truly, he who sits in saddle yondcr, tall and square as a Doric column; not many signs of dotage in the stern straight features, or of infirmity in the nervous hand, so thoroughly at home on the bridle. Sholto Dhu-Glas would have been a better quotation, if a parallel must needs be drawn from Scots story. Was not Lena right when she said that this maya was well able to take care of his own ? Certainly it is not without bitterness that Caryl admits this; and yet with it mingles a certain satisfaction. having yielded place to such a rival, hacked by crushing odds of rank and wcalth, is at least neither cowardly nor shameful. All things considered, Glynne finds it not hard to return the Barons courteous greeting in kind, so that nothing can be more satisfactory than their first interview. After an exchange of a few more common- place sentences, the Atherstones pass on. Ralph says not a word, and Lena does not care just now to meet his eyes; nevertheless, she is con- scious that they have rested on her for a sec- ond, not only touchingly but approvingly; and though it still throbs painfully, she carries away a lighter heart than she has known of late. She marvels a little at her own self-possession ; but now, that sharp ordeal past~ she feels little fear of its failing her. Among the snares laid by the Tempter, is there one more dangerous than the confidence begotten by the first real or seem- ing success? Corbett has watched the colloquy with a feverish anxiety. Certainly Lenas manner, so far as he can judge, has been cool and nuembarrassed to a degree; yet he would give a good deal to have overheard the words that have passed between her and that striking- looking stranger. That they are old acquaint- ances is clear; and if it had been a question of welcoming Mrs. Malcolm only, perhaps Lady Atberstone would not have left him so abruptly. For an instant he is tempted to follow; but, though he has an excellent opinion of himself he is rather deficient in nerve; and this keeps his curiosity in check. While he yet hesitates Malcolm rides up on his covert-hack. Arthur pushes forward at once to accost him. Who has driven Mrs. Malcolm over to- day? he asks, after the usual greetings have been exchanged. Its a new face, and a very remarkable one. Thats my wifes cousin, the other answer- ed, with a laugh. Sounds like the title to a farce, doesnt it? Yes it is a remarkable face, and some remarkable stories have been told about Caryl Glynne in his timenot that I THE SACRED FLORA. 87 believe half of them. At any rate, hes so much changed for the better now that I con- sider him a safe clioperon. I fancy yoa must have heard his name hefore. Heard it? Yes: no one noting Corbetts start and change of color would have doubt- ed that fact. Though a polished specimen of tho class, he was in the manner of his life es- sentially provincial; and flying visits, compris- ing Epsom and Ascot, crammed full with cut- and-dried engagements, had been for years past his sole uncommercial link with the metropolis; nevertheless, that name was not strange to his ears, and at the mention of it he felt a kind of dread, such as might have stricken the dwellers in cisalpine plains when it was rumored that Genseric and Attila drew near. Surely, too, he had seen that face before somewhere in a crowd, and had admired it negligently. Weak and faulty as he was, lie was not such a hypocrite as to continue crying to himself peace when there was no peace; and if he did not realize how far, br how fast, the current was bearing him, he knew at least that he had been swept from safe anchorage long ago, and was tos~ing already on a dark and dangerous sea. Sometimes he caught himself wondering if the world was charitable or blind, so that it was evident only to himselfthe guilty attrac- tion that drew him ever to Lena Atherstones side. But since he set himself to win her fa- vor he had never seen her in company with any of her ancient familiars. In town he had only met her at two or three great entertain- ments, where every thing was staid and stately; and in Loamshire he had had only to compete with acquaintances recent as himself. Here was a familiarwith a vengeance. Was Rob- ert Malcolm mad, to let such a wolf conch in his sheepfold? Was Lord Atherstone mad, to countenance his wife being the first to welcome Caryl Glynne? Or was he, Arthur Corbett, mad, just to torment himself before his time? Though it had been sorely tried of late, he did not think his own brain was wandering yet; and, in very truth, the presentiments of jealousyirrational as they may seemas a rule, go as little astray as any. At this juncture the groom brought up Mal- cohns hunter, and Corbett was glad of the ex- cuse of passing on. He drew himself clear of the crowd, on pretense of altering something in his saddle-gear; and remained there till the hounds moved off, musing moodily. However, ere long, comfort, if not aid, came to him from a quarter whence he had scarce expected help. THE SACRED FLORA. Uselessness divinest, Of a use the finest, 117 HEN Goethe represents Margaret as pluck- given with humor rather than malevolence, as ing the star-flower and crying, as its last devils-apron and devils-leaf (deoun seten as leaf falls, He loves me! and Faust as saying, tlme nettle is called by the natives of Timor), Let this flower-language be thy heavenly ora- and a few similar names, there are few which cle ! he traced all our drawing-room fortune- have ever suggested diabolism. Chick-weed, telling with flowers to its true source in divina- pigwort, pickpocket, snap-dragon, Jack-in-the- tion. At the earliest age of the world the hu- pulpit, and the like, are at worst grotesque; and man heart felt flowers to be the natural symbols as a general thing even poisonous flowersas of gentle affections and noble aspirations. Their aconite, called wolfs-bane, monks-hood, etc. have been regarded from the optimistic point of view. The fatal thangin-nut of Madagascar is believed to be a divine plant, given to be a had redeemed religions and races from the dark- test of the rightfulness or wrongfulness of an est phases of superstition before they taught accusation. It was not with antipathy that the Leigh Ilunt the end of use. Transmitted Egyptians regarded the frail anemone as a sym- from earlier, adopted by later religionspass- bol of sickness. It is notable that the most Sn- ing from pagan temples to be cultivated in con- cred flowers have been rather weeds and pam- vent wallsthe common flowers of our gardens sites than flowers, and it is possible that they have reached us as an imperishable trust be- shared some of the sanctity with which idiots queathed by the first intimations of a Supreme are invested in Russian villages. I doubt not Love to the mind of man. These floral opti- that if we could cross-examine some brother mists have preached their evangel of hope of the stone age as to his preference for Johns- through the winter of superstitious fear; and wort, he would express himself as nearly as the terrors pictured by priestcraft have been possible in the language of a passage written covered over by their soft and irresistible inva- by Hawthorne amidst his conflicts with the sion of every church festival, their smiling sym- squash-bugs in his garden. Why is it, I pathy with the bride, their power to wreathe wonder, asks Hawthorne, that Nature has with beauty time coffin and the grave. It is re- provided such a host of enemies for every use- markable how little of ill has ever been believed ful esculent, while the weeds are suffered to of them, whereas every animal has been some- grow unmolested, and are provided with such where regarded as a devil. Except a few names tenacity of life and such methods of propaga

Moncure D. Conway Conway, Moncure D. The Sacred Flora 87-95

THE SACRED FLORA. 87 believe half of them. At any rate, hes so much changed for the better now that I con- sider him a safe clioperon. I fancy yoa must have heard his name hefore. Heard it? Yes: no one noting Corbetts start and change of color would have doubt- ed that fact. Though a polished specimen of tho class, he was in the manner of his life es- sentially provincial; and flying visits, compris- ing Epsom and Ascot, crammed full with cut- and-dried engagements, had been for years past his sole uncommercial link with the metropolis; nevertheless, that name was not strange to his ears, and at the mention of it he felt a kind of dread, such as might have stricken the dwellers in cisalpine plains when it was rumored that Genseric and Attila drew near. Surely, too, he had seen that face before somewhere in a crowd, and had admired it negligently. Weak and faulty as he was, lie was not such a hypocrite as to continue crying to himself peace when there was no peace; and if he did not realize how far, br how fast, the current was bearing him, he knew at least that he had been swept from safe anchorage long ago, and was tos~ing already on a dark and dangerous sea. Sometimes he caught himself wondering if the world was charitable or blind, so that it was evident only to himselfthe guilty attrac- tion that drew him ever to Lena Atherstones side. But since he set himself to win her fa- vor he had never seen her in company with any of her ancient familiars. In town he had only met her at two or three great entertain- ments, where every thing was staid and stately; and in Loamshire he had had only to compete with acquaintances recent as himself. Here was a familiarwith a vengeance. Was Rob- ert Malcolm mad, to let such a wolf conch in his sheepfold? Was Lord Atherstone mad, to countenance his wife being the first to welcome Caryl Glynne? Or was he, Arthur Corbett, mad, just to torment himself before his time? Though it had been sorely tried of late, he did not think his own brain was wandering yet; and, in very truth, the presentiments of jealousyirrational as they may seemas a rule, go as little astray as any. At this juncture the groom brought up Mal- cohns hunter, and Corbett was glad of the ex- cuse of passing on. He drew himself clear of the crowd, on pretense of altering something in his saddle-gear; and remained there till the hounds moved off, musing moodily. However, ere long, comfort, if not aid, came to him from a quarter whence he had scarce expected help. THE SACRED FLORA. Uselessness divinest, Of a use the finest, 117 HEN Goethe represents Margaret as pluck- given with humor rather than malevolence, as ing the star-flower and crying, as its last devils-apron and devils-leaf (deoun seten as leaf falls, He loves me! and Faust as saying, tlme nettle is called by the natives of Timor), Let this flower-language be thy heavenly ora- and a few similar names, there are few which cle ! he traced all our drawing-room fortune- have ever suggested diabolism. Chick-weed, telling with flowers to its true source in divina- pigwort, pickpocket, snap-dragon, Jack-in-the- tion. At the earliest age of the world the hu- pulpit, and the like, are at worst grotesque; and man heart felt flowers to be the natural symbols as a general thing even poisonous flowersas of gentle affections and noble aspirations. Their aconite, called wolfs-bane, monks-hood, etc. have been regarded from the optimistic point of view. The fatal thangin-nut of Madagascar is believed to be a divine plant, given to be a had redeemed religions and races from the dark- test of the rightfulness or wrongfulness of an est phases of superstition before they taught accusation. It was not with antipathy that the Leigh Ilunt the end of use. Transmitted Egyptians regarded the frail anemone as a sym- from earlier, adopted by later religionspass- bol of sickness. It is notable that the most Sn- ing from pagan temples to be cultivated in con- cred flowers have been rather weeds and pam- vent wallsthe common flowers of our gardens sites than flowers, and it is possible that they have reached us as an imperishable trust be- shared some of the sanctity with which idiots queathed by the first intimations of a Supreme are invested in Russian villages. I doubt not Love to the mind of man. These floral opti- that if we could cross-examine some brother mists have preached their evangel of hope of the stone age as to his preference for Johns- through the winter of superstitious fear; and wort, he would express himself as nearly as the terrors pictured by priestcraft have been possible in the language of a passage written covered over by their soft and irresistible inva- by Hawthorne amidst his conflicts with the sion of every church festival, their smiling sym- squash-bugs in his garden. Why is it, I pathy with the bride, their power to wreathe wonder, asks Hawthorne, that Nature has with beauty time coffin and the grave. It is re- provided such a host of enemies for every use- markable how little of ill has ever been believed ful esculent, while the weeds are suffered to of them, whereas every animal has been some- grow unmolested, and are provided with such where regarded as a devil. Except a few names tenacity of life and such methods of propaga 88 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. tion that the gardener must maintain a contin- ual struggle, or they will hopelessly overwhelm him? What hidden virtue is in these things, that it is granted to sow themselves with the wind, and to grapple the earth with this immit- igahle stubbornness, and to flourish in spite of obstacles, and never to suffer blight beneath any sun or shade, but always to mock their en- emies with the same wicked luxuriance? There is a sort of sacredness about them. Perhaps if we could penetrate Natures secrets we should find that what we call weeds are more essential to the .well-being of the world than the most precious fruit or grain. A few flowers of ill omen must, however, he mentioned. The marigold, which the French call soucis (cares), is rigidly excluded from the flowers with which the German maidens tell their fortunesin the way presently to he no- ticedas also is the calendnla, as it is thought they are unfavorable to love. The poppy has long been a symbol of death the sister of sleep. The crocus (the flower into which the friend of Smilax was transformed when pining with unrequited love), the Austrian peasants say, must he plucked only by healthy young girls or strong men, as it tends to draw away the strength; and it is worthy of note that homeopathy prescribes crocus for female weak- ness. Ox-eye, or maudelyne-wort, has a bad effect on cattle that eat it. Notwithstanding the wonderful virtues every where ascribed to four-leaved clover, the finder of the five-leaved will have bad luck. These, however, are about all the ill-omened flowers. There are, indeed, circumstances under which all flowers are in- jurious. They must not be laid on the bed of a sick person, according to a Silesian supersti- tion. In Westphalia and Thuringia it is said no child under a year old must he perrtiitted to wreathe itself with flowers, or it will die soon and in Erzgebirge, it is added, such flowers will entirely lose their fragrance. Flowers must, according to a common German saying, in no case be laid on the mouth of a corpse, since the dead man may chew them, which would make him a Nachzebrer, or one who draws his relatives to the grave after him. To dream of white flowers prognosticates death; and if a white rose-bush puts forth unexpectedly, it is a sign of a death in the nearest house. One who throws a rose into a grave will waste away. It must be remembered, however, that the flowers and plants which were even usually associated with death were by no means considered ill- omened, but often the reverse. Thus the rose- mary, while in many countries it has been strewn on graves Theres rosemary for youthats for remembrance in Thuringia is twined with bridal wreaths, and worn by the young at confirmation. Rose- mary is much used in many regions as a diviner in love affairs. We have seen that the same association with death pertains to the myrtle, of which the normal bridal wreath in Germany is made. Even the saffron, which has an equivo- cal reputation in Austria, was regarded in the far East as an omen of good destiny to one on whose grave it bloomed; and the Swiss mothers twine the safraa priataaier around the necks of their children to keep them from harmthis superstition being engendered by the love of that flower fur the snow and snowy peaks. In Erzgebirge saffron is thought good for the but- ter if given to cows, and in one or two regions it is thought to cure jaundice. The symbolism of the RosElike its etymon, which has been variously regarded as from Greek, po~6v (related to epvOp6c, red; Skr., rudlzira; Ger., roth), and from Latin, ros (dew) is puzzling. Why should it have been in ancient Egypt the token of silence? It pre- served this significance in Greece, where Eros was represented offering a rose to the god of silence, indicating the secrecy in which love delights. In Tyrol we find it held that the rose-gall produces sleep. Stratagem also loves silence, and so we find the rose appearing on Roman shields. Thence it appeared with the cross as the device of Luther and symbol of the Rosicrucians (sub rosa crax), to find its way, as a symhol of secret bands, until it became the badges of York and Lancaster, and gave us our phrase sub rosa. Related, probably, to its sym- bolism of silence is its relation in some countries to death. The Arabians have a legend of a garden of mystical roses once planted by King Shaddad, and now lost and buried in their des- ert. The Chinese plant the rose over graves, and it was frequently carved as an emblem on Greek and Roman tombs. This, however, may be cognate with the Syrian belief which re- gards it as an emblem of immortality. The reverence with which the Jews spoke bf their coming Messiah as the Rose of Sharon is repeated in the esteem of their descendants for the rose of Jerichowhich, from its ability to recover life after being swept about like a dry leaf, became the natural emblem of the Resurrection.* The flower thus called is not a rose, but has been placed by Lianteus in the 1st order, Siliculosa, 15th class, Tetradynamia. Its earliest meption, perhaps, is in Jesus Sirach, 24; and it (or its representatives) has been called Aaastatica (resurrection - flower) hieroclsuatiaa, Rosa hierosolymitaaa, Rosa S. Mariai (French jtrose). The pilgrims to the Holy Sepulchre reported that it marked every spot where Mary and Joseph rested on the flight into Egypt, which suggests the Greek myth that the red rose was metamorphosed from white by the blood of Venus when she trod on its thorn while going to aid the dying Narcissus. The Turks have a version of the same myth, saying that the rose * The natives of Mexico find a similar significance in their resurrection-plant. which has a more re- markable power of recuperation than say other. Aft- er drifting about for mouths, brown and shriveled, it requires only a few moments in a cup of water to expand to its original form and recover its color. Euphorbia, or Medusa-head, blooms out in warm wa- ter after being apparently dead. THE SACRED FLORA. 89 is colored with the blood of Mohammed, and they will never let that flower lie on the ground. The rose of Jericho certainly has a reniarkable power of resuscitation, one brought by the Tern- plars from the East having bloomed after 700 years. All the superstitions connected with it in the East have, in Germany and Italy, gath- ered around the rose called by its name, which the novel of the Swiss David I-Iesz has made familiar. It is called the Weinachts-rose, and is supposed, if steeped in water oa Christmas- eve, to confer the power of divining the events of the coming year. In her dedication of the pleasant French story entitled The Rose of Jericho, which she has recently translated, Mrs. Norton speaks of having found the same flower often borrowed in Italy by women to in- sure safe childbirth. This may be referable to another Greek legend that the rose sprang from the bath of Aphrodite. There is a superstition in Persia that, on a certain charmed day of the year, the rose has a heart of gold. To this Omar seems to allude in his verse: Look to the blowing rose about us. Lo, Laughing, she says, into the world I blow; At once the silken tassel of my purse Tear, and its treasure on the garden throw! In Waldeck, Germany, we have a reminiscence of this fable in the superstition that it is the roseand not, as is held usually, the cowslip or the forget-me-notwhich unlocks the treasures concealed in fairy castles. The Catholic rosary, which the Germans call Rosenkranz, or rosewreath, suggests that originally the worshipers may have counted their prayers with roses; at any rate, it seemed cer- tain that for a long time the larger beads were called roses. But this was the case in Germany before the introduction of Christianity. The rose was held to he the favorite flower of the maternal goddess Holda, ~vho, as we have be- fore seen, was often called Frau Rose, or Mutter Rose. It was partly transferred, with all other symbols of Holda, to the Madonna, who is frequently called Marienr6schen. Mary, it is said, dries her veil on a rose-bush, which thenceforth bears no more roses. But there has been a tendency to associate the white rose par- ticularly with the Virgin Mary, that being chiefly chosen for her fdte days, while the warmer and more earthly feelings associated with Frau Rose are still represented in the superstitions connected with the red rose. If a white rose bloom in autumn it denotes an early death; if a red, an early marriage. The red rose, it is held, will not bloom over a grave. In Posen the rose-apple is carried by the country maid- en in her breast to keep her lover true. In Thuringia she who has several lovers may name rose leaves after them and scatter them on wa- ter; the leaf that sinks last is that of her truest lover, or predestined husband. Some of the superstitions concerning the rose in Germany are singular; as for instance, the custom found in some places of throwing rose leaves on a coal-fire for good luck, and the saying that a rose-bush pruned on St. Johns Day will bloom again in the autumn. The relation of the flow- er to blood is widely believed. Thus one may find in France and Italy, as well as Germany, the saying that a drop of ones blood buried under a rose-hush will bring rosy cheeks.* The rose is also associated with an ancient charm once universal in Germany, still fre- quent in Swabia and Westphalia, against nose- bleeding, and indeed all kinds of hemorrhages. This formula in Westphalia runs thus: Abek, Wahek, Fabek: in Christs garden stand three red rosesone for the good God, the other for Gods blood, the third for the angel Gabriel: blood, I pray you cease to flow! In Swabia it is said: On our Lord Jesus grave spring three rosesthe first is Hope, the second Pa- tience, the third Gods Will: blood, I pray you be still ! Sometimes again it is, In Gods garden bloom three rosesBlood-drop, Blood- stdp, and Blood-still, etc. These runes have curious modifications. In St. Louis, Missouri, a German named Stretger last year committed murder, and afterward suicide. In his room was found the following charm against hesnor- rhage: At the grave of Christ bloom three flowersthe first is Jugend, the second is Tn- gend, the third is Gubel (?Uhel). Repeat three times and the blood will cease to flow. I have somewhere met with a legend that the thorn-crown of Christ was made from rose-brier, and that the drops of blood that started under it and fell to the ground blossomed to roses; the fable has been recalled to me, though I can not trace it, by the felicitous lines of the most gifted American poetess (Mrs. Howe): Men saw the thorns on Jesus brow, But angels saw the roses. A similar idea pervades the story of Dora- r6schen, known to English readers as The Sleeping Beauty, or Rose-Bud, who, it will be remembered, sleeps in a palace surrounded by formidable thorn-thickets, in which all who approached perished save the true prince, to whom the thorns were all roses, through which he passed with ease. There is, by-the-way, in the sanie legend, as it originally appears in the Edda of Stemund, a curious reminiscence of the Oriental symbolism which connected the rose ~vith silence and sleep. When Sigurd there enters the castle and arouses Brynhilda, she tells the story of her trance in these words: Two kings contended; one bight Hialmgun- ncr, and he was old but of mickle might, and Odin had promised him the victory. I felled him in fight; but Odin struck my head with the sleepy-thorn, and said I should never be again victorious, and should be hereafter wed- ded. There seems little doubt that the flow- ering of the rose out of a thorn has from the earliest period had a significance to the Norse- man as representing his own character. In * There was an old custom of nurses to put a drop of human blood in a new-born childs bath to insure its having rosy cheeks. 9 90 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Beauty and the Beast we get a notion of the Beasts kindliness, under his formidable aspect, by his living in a garden of roses, and setting so high a value upon them which show the good heart of the thorn. Mr. Emerson says that the English people love this story because it is characteristic of them. The Englishman is a bear with a soft lilace in his heart he says no, and helps you. The name of the LILY seems to be related to some old personifications of the night, which Orpheus described as the mother of gods and men. In the Syrian dialects we have Lii, Lilleli, etc., as denoting the evening. It is probable that some earlier deification of the evening is repre- sented in the Talmadic legend of Lilith, Adams first wife, whose fatal charm lay in her golden hair. Cold to all, her lovers wasted away, and around the heart of each was found a thread of golden hair. Selden is probably correct in iden- tifying Lilith with the Arabic Halalath and As- syrian Allilat on the one hand, and Luna orDiana on the othe,. OfAllilat he says(DeDiisSyriis): non aIm est a Luna sine Diana. Lilith etiam dicta Judnis, quod ab eodem quo Hala- lath Araham manet fonte a Lailab, nempe qnod nox est, nude Lilith. The similarity of the name to Deleilab, and to Liken, the beautiful nymph and daughter of Cephissus, and also to Lethe, goddess of oblivion, after whom the river Lethe in the underworld was named, is worthy of note. It looks somewhat as if there might have blended with the Talmudic that of the Lotophggi (Od., ix.): And whoso tasted of their flowery meat Cared not with tidings to return, but dave Fast to that tribe, forever fain to eat, Reckless of home return, the tender lotus sweet. This lotus, however, was probably the nebek, still eaten by the Bedonins, and only by nominal association with the nymphcee could have shared the legends of the lily. That the cold golden- haired Lilith, and the chaste manhating Diana, should be personifications of the moonlight, and that their emblem should be the pale golden- hearted lily, is not wonderful; but it must be re inembered that the only white lily known to the Jews was the ~vater-lily. It is curious that the most gorgeous wild lily in Americathe yuca, which furnished Margaret Fuller with a theme for one of her finest piecesshould 1)0 popularly called Adams-needle. From the time of the Ci usadeis pilgrims to Palestine have sought to find there the lily whose array was beyond that of Solomon in all his glory. But the lily re- ferred to by Christ has never been satisfactorily ascertained. The popular idea that it was the lily of the valley has been evolved from the sim- ple and lowly character of Christ, but that lily, loving cold Norway best, is unknown in tropical regions. It is not, indeed, certain that the flo~ver meant was what we now call a lily at all. Asphodel, amaryllis, narcissus, erinum, and the golden lily have all had learned advocates for the honor referred to. The same obscurity surrounds the flower referred to so often by Solomon He feedeth among the lilies, lie shall be as the dew upon the lily. It was probably through the sacred associations with which the words of Christ invested the lily that the fleer-dc-liz became the emblem of France; one legend being that after one of the battles of the Crusades the banner, which had hitherto been white, was found covered with lilies. The sacred lily of the East is the LoTus, there being hardly one of the Oriental mythologies in which it has not a chief place. In Egypt, where the flower reaches its greatest beauty, it was repre- seated as the throne of Osiris, the god of day. In India Vishnu was pictured, in the long in- tervals of his earthly avatars, as a beautiful youth sleeping on the star-spotted serpent, which floated on an azure sea, and clasping the lotus in his hand. As Creeshna he was called the lotus-eyed. One of the holiest volumes of Buddha is entitled The White Lotus of the Good Law ; and Buddha is always pictured bearing lotus flowers in each hand. The Syrians regarded it as a symbol of the cradle of Moses fonnd on the shores of the Nile by Pharaohs daughter; and wherever the story of the Deluge found its way the lotus was associated with the Ark. Our name for the lotus (nynplie2e) seems to refer to the myth of the metamorphosis of the nymph Lotis when she was pursued by Priapus, as related by Ovid; but it is probable that it was a tree signified in the story, probably the Dios- ])~~US lotus of Italy. During the ages in which the water-lily has been held sacred it has been invested by poets with every variety of signifi- cance. It meant fertility on the Nile and on the Ganges to the people, while to the prophets it meant the soul drawn out of e~ il mattet and surmounting the waves of sense. On the Rhine a superstition is occasionally met with that the nynplina must be gathered only with magical formulasof late an ave or paternoster will do and that it then is a potent charm against witchcraft. In Spain the lily has been credit- ed with the power of restoring those who have been transformed into animal shapes. Con- cerning our common lily there was once a su- perstition among farmers that the number of white cups on the most flourishing stem they could find denoted the number of shillings a bushel of wheat would bring that year; and there is still a belief among those who put their trust in the village herbalist that it is a cure for venomous bites. The SKow-uxor has long been regarded as a sacred flower, as the first sign of the returning life of nature piercing the snow (French, perce - neige). It was conse- crated to the Virgin Mary. On her Ascension- day, formerly, her images were removed from the altars to indicate her ascension, and the spot where each stood strewn with snow-drops. The gnophalianz (amaranthon, the helichry- sum of Pliny, and the chrysanthemon which Dioscorides describes as nsed for chaplets), which we know under so many common names cats-foot, chastity, everlastinghas long had a connection with immortality in Catholic coun THE SACRED FLORA. 91 tries, and is gathered on Ascension-day to be hung over the door of house and stable as a charm against various evils, hut especially against lightning. It was this flower that Em- erson laid on the grave of his friend Thoreau. There is, he said, a flower known to bota- nists, one of the same genus with our summer plant called life-everlasting, a gaap/zalium, like that, which grows on the most inaccessible cliffs of the Tyrolese Mountains, where the chamois dare hardly venture, and which the hunter, tempted by its beauty and his love (for it is im- mensely valued by the Swiss maidens), climbs the cliffs to gather, and is sometimes found dead at the foot with the flower in his hand. It is called by the botanists Gaaplialiurn leoatopodium, hut by the SwissEdelweisse, which signifies noble purity. Thoreau seemed to me to be living in the hope to gather this plant, which belonged to him of right. The superstitious value placed on it by the Swiss is for wreaths, which are made on Ascension-day, and said to have power under certain conditions to render the wearer invisible. It is also an old Suabian belief that one who on the Friday of the full moon, or on a fdte day before sunset, pulls it up by the root, and, folding it carefully in a white cloth, wears it against the naked breast, will thereby be made bullet-proof and dagger- proof. Some beautiful German legends arc connect- ed with the STRAWBERRY, which was a favorite fruit of Frigg, or Holla, the goddess of the sum- mer. As was afterward said of the Virgin Mary in Paradise, Holla ~vas said to go a-berrying with the children on St. Johns Day. On that day no mother who has lost a child will taste a strawberry, for then her child will get none in Paradise. Mary will say, Stand behind, your sweet-toothed mother has eaten yours already. Holla and her little companions pick strawber- ries so rapidly that in a quarter of an hour all their baskets are full. In Bavaria it is said elves come to milk the cows, in return blessing the animals with abundance of milk. These elves being very fond of strawberries, the shep- herds tie little baskets of them between the cows horns. The Gilbich, or dwarf-king, is said in Hanover always to have strawberries and raspberries on his table. In Bavaria it is related that a little strawberry girl met an old woman clothed entirely with moss, and soon after found that all her berries had changed to gold. There is a story very popular in the Tyrol, but found with modifications throughout Germany, that a little brother and sister, while picking strawberries, met a noble woman of shining raiment and with a crown brighter than the sun. It was the mother of Christ. The little girl arose respectfully, but the boy went on eating strawberries. The woman gave the sister a golden box, the brother a black one. The boy found in his box two black worms, which, becoming longer and longer, wind them- selves around him and lead him forever into the dark forest. But out of the girls box came two angels which flew with her to Paradise. (Mann- hardt.) rhe common CLOVER, which was much used in ancient Greek festivals, was regarded by the Germans as sacred chiefly in its four-leaved variety. There is, indeed, in the vicinity of Altenburg a superstition that if a farmer take home with him a handful of clover taken from each~of the four corners of his neighbors field, it will go well with his cattle during the whole year; but the normal belief is that the four- leaved clover, on account of its cross-form, is endowed with magical virtues. The general form of the sup~rstition is that one who carries it about him will be successful at play, and ~vilI be able to detect the proximity of evil spirits. In Bohemia it is said that if the maiden man- ages to put it into the shoe of her lover without his knowledge when he is going on any jour-. ney, he will be sure to return to her faithfully and safely. In the Tyrol the lover puts it un- der the pillow to dream of the beloved. On Christmas-eve, especially, one who has it may see witches. Plucked with a gloved hand and taken into the house of a lunatic without any one else perceiving it, it is said to cure mad- ness. The four-leaved clover is also thought in various regions to protect one from witches, especially in the dark; to keep butter pure, on which account it is a good form for a butter- mould; and to prevent one from being drafted for military service. The VIOLET (Latin, viola, a little flower; Greek, ~Xoo~) had its greatest reputation among those races of the East whose religions were rather emotional than mystical. The Arabian poets bade the wealthy and ambitious learn humility from this lowly way-side preacher. In Mohammedan countries it has acquired a sanc- tity on account of their prophets fondness for it. As my religion is above others, he said, so is the excellence of the odor of violets above other odors: it is us warmth in winter and coolness in midsummer. It is likely that was from some long fore-ground of popular homage that the violet became the badge of the medieval minstrels, as in the poetical con- tests of Toulouse, where the prize was a golden violet. Its kindred have been translated into interior meanings, as their names showpan- sies (peas~es), hearts-ease, herb-trinity. The only German superstitiOns connected with it are to be found in Brandenburg and Silesia, where it is said to cure ague if one chews the first vio- let he sees; and in Thuringia, where it wields a charm against harm from the black-art. There are few flowers whose popularity is more cred- itable to human nature. Except that in some rigions of the East it has been used to flavor sherbets, and that in Scotland it has been used as a cosmetic, thought formerly to be favorable to the complexion, it has been universally cher- i~hed for its modest beauty and its delicate fra- grance alone. The Germans can not be included in the stolid class defined by Wordsworth, to whom a 92 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. PRIMROSE is a yellow primrose and nothing more. It may not be a very spiritual treasure which they see in its gold, but it is true that no flower has had in that country a wider associa- tion with the supernatural. Its German name, Schhisselblnme, or key-flower, is indeed strictly referable to its legendary connection with hidden treasures. The myth, as told in various sagas, affirms that the good Bertha en- tices some favored child by exquisite and fasci- nating primroses to a secret doorway completely overgrown with flowers. This is the door to an enchanted castle. When the key-flower touches it the door gently opens and the favor- ed mortal passes to a room with vessels covered over with primroses, beneath which are treas- ures of gold or jewels. When the treasure has been taken the primroses must be placed back carefully, otherwise the lucky person will be forever followed by a black dog. The super- stition survives in England only in the country name of the cowslip, fairy-cupi. e., a cup holding fairy gifts. Another form which the fable takes is that the flowers are bluethe azure of the sky, which is Berthas blue eye and that the treasures are held by forget-me- nots. When the treasures have been taken, in this case, a voice is heard, saying, Forget not the flowersi. e., to replace them care- fullyand thence that flower is named the forget-me-not. As serpents usually guarded such treasures, the names scorpion-grass, vipers bugloss, for similar flowers is significant. In other regions, again, the gold is declared to be found hid under flax, in which form of the myth one may detect a fable of industry, like that of the dying farmer who told his sons of a treasure hidden in the field, which, however, turned out to be gained by industriously work- ing it. Iu Waldeck it is the rose under whose silence the treasure is concealed; and in yet other places white flowers. The ALOE still preserves its sanctity in vari- ous parts of the East. The Persian Dervis sings: Ab, I flame as aloes do! and it is still swung from the censers of Egyp- tian temples. The worshipers often pass a bit of aloe from one to another, each kissing it and touching his forehead with it. The Mussulmans plant it around the most venerated tombs; and if a Mussulman has made a pilgrimage to the shrine of the Prophet, fhe fact is made known, and the honor claimed, by the appearance of aloe at his door. The Jews of Cairo hang it over their thresholds to keep away evil spirits. The origin of the aloes sanctity is probably in- dicated in its Arabic name, saber (patience). The holiest monastery in Syria is probably that on Mount Saber, where the aloe is much ven- erated. The belief that it blossoms once a century is still cherished in the East; and the certainly long interval between its blossoms, and the little nourishment or aid it demands, added to its character as an evergreen, proba- bly made it a symbol of the sleep of death and the resurrection. In Germany it is called the Tree of Paradise, but being little known to the common people, they, like ourselves, are affect- ed by its sanctity only through the formidable superstition with which its medicinal virtues are still invested in the minds of physicians. CHAMOMILE, still drunk as a tea in English cottages as a cure for various ailments, and a favorite medicine with the homeopathists, has had a place among the magically endowed plants as far back as ancient Greece, where it was used in religious festivals. Wreaths of it are still made in Eastern Prussia, which, having been gathered on St. Johns Day, are hung up in houses as a charm against storms. In Erzge- birge magical virtue is ascribed to chamomile tea; and in that and various other regions of Germany it is a favorite plant in the divination of love affairs. In reading accounts of the old witch trials, especially those of the south of England, one can hardly help being struck by the fact that in the antics by which the so-called witches sought to impose upon their neighbors the plants used by them are almost always RUE and VEEVAIN. There is now little doubt that the circles and signs of pretended magic shown to have been used by the bags were ghosts of the early pagan rites, which had survived from pre-historic times. Rue was, in many lands, supposed to have a po- tent effect on the eyeeven more than euphra- sy, or eyebright, with which eyes are still in- jured in Scotlandbestowing second-sight, and is still regarded in some regions as a specific for dim eyes. So sacred was the regard in which it was held in Great Britain that we find the earliest Christian missionaries sprinkling holy- water from brushes made of it on their congre- gations. From which cause it was called herb of grace. There is a reminiscence of this in Draytons description of an incantation: Then sprinkles she the juice of rue, With nine drops of the midniblit dew From lunary* distilling. Milton also represents Michael as purging Adams eyes with it. Shakspeare may be right in connecting rue with ruth, because of its bitterness, the word itself being from Ang.-Sax., rude; Greek, pdrq. The only region on the Con- tinent where any superstition concerning rue is found resembling the form it assumed in En- gland, as affecting the eye, is in the Tyrol, where it is one of five plantsthe others being broom- straw, agrimony, maidenhair, and ground-ivy which are bound together and believed, if carried about, to enable the bearer to see witches. If laid over the door, it keeps any witch who shall seek to enter fastened on the threshold. It is especially reverenced by the rustic population of Posen, where it is held to be a powerful charm against wicked spells, excellent to heal serpent- bites, and where it is buried with young children to keep their bodies from speedily decaying. * Lunaria, or moon-wort, somewhat moon-shaped, and once supposed to cure the madness so widely at. tributed to the influence of the moon. THE SACRED FLORA. 93 Rue, cranes-bill, and willow are the three essen- tials of a magic wreath, which generally consists of nine kinds of plants, made by the maidens of Voigtland, with which to test the number of years they are to remain single. Walking backward to a tree they throw the wreath over their beads, until it remains banging on the tree; each fail- ure in the attempt represents another year in the interval before marriage. The connection of AGRIMONY* with rue in the Tyrol as confer- ring preternatural vision is curious, when we remember that its name is a corruption of ar- gomony, the flower of Argos, who kept his hundred eyes in good condition with it. In Austria the plants good for the eyes are arte- misia, larkspur, goats-thorn, cat-mint, and corn-flowers, which the weak-eyed make into a wreath, and look through it at a St. Johns fire. The renown of vervain may be traced to an- cient Greece and Rome, where it was borne by embassadors on treaties of peace. It was sa- cred to the god of xvar, representing, however, his more merciful mood, possibly because it is a plant which is always found near human dwell- ings. It naturally became associated with the war-god of Germany, who, being also a light- ning-god, was supposed to avert the thunder- bolt from a house protected by it. It is still used thus by some, in connection with arte- misia, in Franconia. It is, however, more directly associated with Tyr in the Bohemian superstition that vervain and rue boiled to- gether, and the liquid poured on a gun-flint, will render the shot as sure to take effect as any Freischiitz could desire. In the same country it is held that vervain which has been touched to a St. Johns fire has power to snap iron and chains. The Druids called vervain holy herb. They gathered it at the rising of the dog-star, from spots upon which neither sun uor moon ever shone, and bestowed on the earth sacrifices of honey to compensate it for the deprivation of so holy an herb. Its repu- tation was sufficient in Ben Jonsons day for him to write Bring your garlands, and with reverence place The vervain on the altar. Even yet, in some districts of England, children may be seen with vervain twined about their necks, little knowing that in earlier times it was sometimes succeeded by a halter. The country people, in naming the little flower that smiles brightly when all other flowers have withered the DAISY, or days-eye, holding, in England at least, that it springs under the light of the planet Venus, have forestalled the poets. Beyond all other flowers this unassuming com- monplace of nature, as Wordsworth calls it, has been the favorite with poets. Chaucer, Spenser, Shakspeare, Ben Jonson, Burns, Wordsworth, and others of less fame, have celebrated its humble beauty. In early days it was held in * In Suabia it is said that he who looks on agri- mony as he sows, early or late, will always have stout blood. superstitious regard chiefly on account of its star form, and is to-day the favorite flower of the German maidens in prognosticating their love fortunes. In Thuringia it has a mysteri- ous association with the teeth; the saying there runs that one who has had a tooth taken out must eat the first three daisies he sees, which will secure him from toothache for the future. This Thuringian superstition is, however, an anomaly in the history of the daisy, which, as one of the flowers of Bertha, was adopted for St. Margaret, and became the favorite of the cloisters, where it was called, generally, Mar- garet, but also Paquerette, or Easter-flower, in France, and Michaelmas-daisy in England. It is regarded in some parts of Great Britain as a cure for sciatica and for swellings. The THISTLE was in former times much val- ued for magical purposes. It must be gathered in absolute silence when it is to be thus used. It was deemed sacred to Thor, and its blossom receives its color from the lightning, from which it defends. What is kno~vn among the poorest classes of Poland and the contiguous regions of Prussia as the elf-lock is supposed to be the work of evil demons; and it is said that if one buries thistle seed it will gradually disappear. It.is said by ethers to be produced by the seed of a thistle; and old wives administer medi- cines until the elf-lock is ripe, when they crush it off with a sharp stonea knife, or any thing of iron, being particularly prohibited. In Silesia and Franconia thistle is regarded as a safeguard against witchcraft. In East Prussia, if any do- mestic animal has a sore or wound in which worms appear, the cure is to gather four red thistle blossoms before daybreak and put one in each of the four directions of the compass, with a stone in the middle between them. The milk- thistle was called in England Our Ladys thistle. The night - blooming flowers have every where been regarded as symbolical. The ce- reus gained its name from the torches with which Ceres is said to have searched for Pros- erpine. The superb cactus which is called the torch-thistle in Mexico, is called the steppe- light in Russia. The kings - candles of Oberfalz are regarded as of great sacredness. The North American and South Ame~can In- dians seem to have observed the phenomena of sleeping and night-blooming plants, and it has been thought by some that they had to some extent anticipated the floral dial of Liannus. It is a question which I have not been able to determine satisfactorily when or why orange flowers in England and France displaced the old emblem of love and constancy, myrtle, for the bridal wreath. Some critics, however, in- cline to the belief that by the famous apples of the Hesperides were really meant oranges, a fruit known in Greece only by reports from the southwest. The myth which chiefly sur- rounded this beautiful and distant fruit, which may have been called apple simply because that had become a generic name (as we see in Latin 94 HARPERS NEW MONThLY MAGAZINE. pomuin also), was, that Ge (Earth) had presented the apples, guarded by the dragon Ladon, to Hera at her marriage with Zeus. If the custom came by this route it would have been assisted by the white and shining aspect of the blossoms of the fruit, whose name is probably related to the word for radiance (dvpwv, moruing, wheuce Aurora, and aurum, or, gold). (The French word oranqe, however, though evidently influenced by or, preserves in it the Persian name for the fruit, ndrandscli, fromthe Skr., naranga, meaning, strangely enough, the desire of elephants.) The orange blossoms would easily he connected with the apple of Aphrodite, which was also a golden apple. The arrows of Eros were golden; but they are not so poetic as those of Kama- dawa, the Indian Cupid, whose arrow-heads were from the rose-red amra-tree, and were shot from a bow of sugar-cane. But our catalogue must now be brought to a close, though it might be almost indefinitely extended. A few flower superstitions must be mentioned, however, which, though they are found only in an isolated condition, might, if traceable, be found related to vast theologies. How curious it is to find the Ocynzum senctuos of India, the common basil, regarded in the superstitions of Voigtland as the test of ch~s- tity, withering in the hands of the impure! In some places it is said that if basil be laid under tbe plate of an impure girl she will not touch it. The bleeding-nun was formerly a charm against bad weather in Germany, and now is conse- crated to the Virgin Mary. Saxifrage, if cut so that there shall be a stem with nine prongs, is supposed to enable him who carries it into a church on Walpurgis - night to see witches. One striking fact about the Ger- man plant superstitions, particularly, is the low- liness of the vegetables about which so many grand things are said. The Leaves of Grass have, indeed, already found their poet; but the faithful potato, which, following man over the world, has become almost a man and a broth- er, still waits for its epic. Yet the popular heart has not failed to contribute much toward its apotheosis. Its relation to the stars is af- firmed in the Teutonic belief that one must be careful not to plant it during the ascendency of Pis~s, lest it be watery, but in that of Gemini, that it may be full. It has been adopt- ed into the Christian year in the belief cf the Lithuanian farmer that it must be l)lanted on Maundy-Thursdav. If one sells potato seed- lings before he has l)lanted some his~self he must retain three of them, otherwise his own potatoes will produce no fruits. Its relation to poverty was foretold in the belief of Voigtland that potatoes meant stout blood, but bad luck; and in the same country it is said that when its top-shoots droop a visit is betokene~l. In Silesia a raw potato is applied to warts; in Friesland it is kept on the flesh till it decays to cure the malady of the rich, gout; and in some parts of England it is carried about to heal rheumatism. Mnch is said also of tar nips, which must be planted on St. Margarets Day, and on the edges of the field, care being taken that no leaf be ever taken from the turnip - field lest the vegetable become dry. Grimm has given us a beautiful story of the poorer of two brothers, who could only present the king with a huge turnip, but thereby gained fortune. It is the theme of an old Latin story of the fourteenth century, entitled Raparius, the MS. of which is at Strasbourg. As for beans, why need I tell their wonderful history to those who have read of Jack climbing his bean-stalk; or the young bride of The Robber- Bridegroom, whose beans and pease took root and flourished to guide her back from the lone- ly wood; or who have taken the homeopathic medicine ignatia, of saintly virtues? The Arabs have a tradition that at Hebron it was that Esan sold his birth-right, and that the pottage was of lentils. From a mosque there the Dervises distribute a daily supply of lentil soup to the poor and travelers. Lentils (Ervum lens) are supposed to have given us the word Lent, by its use in Catholic countries during that season. Gourds (which must be planted on Ascension- day) twopence, or loosestrife, called in France lierbe ccx cent maladiesthe salads, one of which changed folks to asses, the other chang- ing them back again (see Grimms Krautesel and the Gesta Romanormoa)pimpernel, the charm against any epidemic in Thuringia and Bohemiahemp, the exorcist of fevers in Bo- hemia, us well as murdererslinseed, in vari- ous regions regarded as oracularfennel, cara- way seed, coriander, feared by the dwarfs and many other common plants and seeds have been held in a reverence which now seems to us grotesque. There have been no end of virtues ascribed to the nettle, which was a pet plant of the Thunderer, and was, in Germany, the curer of burns and the protector from thunder-bolts. Old Culpepper declares that it is a plant of Mars, and excellent against venom- ous bites and stings. (So old is the homeo- patbic idea!) The English notion that beer may be made of nettles can not, I think, be the result of experiment, and is perhaps traceable to the custom in some parts of Southern Ger- many of laying nettles on casks of beeri. e., to keep the liquid from turning sour under the storms, through Thors respect for the plant. Of some plants and flowers, into whose corre- spondences ~ve can not enter, it may be at least suggestive to recall some of the popular names as travelers-joy, hearts-ease, shepherds-nee- dle, dandelion (dent-dc-lion), wayfarers-tree, queen-of-the-meadow, wake-robin, cuckoo-cup (out of which the cuckoo was supposed to take its morning draught), maidenhair, humble- plant, honesty, sweet-margery, woodhine, Ye- nuss - looking glass, dames -violet, shepherds purse, bittersweet, itumortelle ,wind-witchthis- tle (which the Russians call perikat?uole, or leap-in-the-field), virgin-bower, dianthus (flow- er-of-God), star-of-Bethlehem, Solomons-seal, Jerusalemoak, Jobs-tears, crossflower, sam UNDER THE ROSE. l)hire (corruption of St. Pierre), tansy (St. Athanasie), which I have seen growing on the tops of Finnish hovels, apparently sown there as a protection, hrier (Briarens ?), senna (sana), sage (saga), ladys-smock, ladys-slipper, holly- hock (holyonk), daffodil (asphodel), amaranth, and passion-flower. It is plain that he who spake of trees from the cedar-ti~e that is in Lehanon even unto the hyssop that spring- eth out of the wall had no wider hospitality than the instinct of mankind for these hnmble gifts of the field and way-side. In the Norse story it was not the idle princes hnt the poor d~varf that found the heaps of pearls concealed under the moss; and there is reason to believe that the country dummlings who have given the common flowers some of the heautiful names just mentioned have not been left without the purer treasures they conceal from all who ns~e not lowly like themselves. No doubt, too, they have served man well mcdicinally; for though of the 400 English herhs in the Complete Herh- al of Nicholas Culpepper, applied to the cure of all disorders incident to man, many were useless in themselves, and some hurtful, it can not he douhtcd that the exchange of the herb- alist for the apothccary and his drugs was to pass from Dr. Log to Dr. Stork. It is generally supposed that mans earliest worship is fepresented hy these superstitious concerning plants and those concerning ani- mals ; that it was from these lower ol~jects that his reverence gradually ascended to the adora- tion of the sun and stars. But I believe that a careful examination of the superstitions which have heen recorded in this paper will furnish many evidences that the case was really the re- verse. it is prohahle that the a~ve which ~vas the beginning of worship was first excited in the human mind when it gazed upon the mys- terious, silent heavens, or witnessed the conflicts of night and day, and the wild power of the ele- ments ahove him. At a later period, and after he had given greater attention to the cultivation of the fruits of the earth, the scene of his inter- est would he gradually shifted from the distant heavens to the near earth, from the cold star to the flower unfolding beneath it. Progress of thought would then, as now, he from minding high things toward condescending to things of low estate, from the unattainable to the attain- ahle. And this would he brought ahout by the increasing perception of the correspondence he- tween the heavens and the earth, each change of the sky heing responded to hy a change in the growths of earth. That many of the flow- ers and trees were reverenced hecause of their real or supposed relation to the heavens we know. The Hindoos say that the hanyan is a tree growing downward, its roots being fed from ahove, where they lie. The myth of Daphne is a particularly triking illustration of the same thing. Daphne is plainly the Sanscrit Dakana, the dawn. Before the advances of Apollo (the sun) the dawn of course perishes, hut its light remains ~vith the laurel. The peculiar crackling of the laurel when hurned (Pliny, lih. xv.) is thought to have occasioned the Roman super- stitions concerning it. A laurel was preserved with great awe in the villa of the Cnsars, on ac- count of the legend that an eagle let fall a hen, which fell into the lap of the Empress Livia, un- hurt, and hearing in its heak the stem from which the tree had heen reared. A very important fact al~so is one of which there can he no doubt, that the flowers chosen hy the German peasants, hy which to divine their fortunes, are nlways those which are star-shapedas the crysanthemon and the daisy. One after another petal is pulled off to a set of phrases, as, Young man, widower, husband Lie loves me, from his heart, with pain, beyond measure, can not leave me, loves me little, not at all ; Single, mar- ried, convent ; and the phrase which represents the destiny is that with which the last petal falls. Another fact of importance is that all the vir tues ascrihed to flowers, plants, etc., were strict- ly connected with times, seasons, and plam~etary influences. Since the introduction of Christian- ity the old astronomical periods and festivals have hecome disguised in the saints days as we now know them ; hut we know that the Christian year conforms very closely to the pa- gan year, which was divided according to the changes of the moon and the relative position of the sun. The significance of the prescription th~ t the potent plants must he gathered under the full moon, or when the sun does not shine, or on St. Johns Day, can not he misunder- stood. The poetic phrase stars of earth was anciently realistic. The same thing might he shoxvn in relation to the sacred animals. It is very douhtful if the serpent was ever worshiped independently; it was as the earthly symbol of the heavenly serpent, the rainbow, or the lightning, that it was venerated. We must then regard the reverence paid to trees and flowers not as fetich-worship, hut as a sacred regard paid to them as oracles of heings higher than themselves, of whose energies they were the only appreciable manifestations. UNDER THE ROSE. Sims timinketh thee dead, 0 rose! Though thy withered petals close, Though thy bloom be dead And thy perfume fled, Yet down in thy heart, Which I tore apart, I kissed a thoughtthat was thy soul! A thought that leaped my hearts control, More passionate and sweet and true Than sweetest rose that ever grew. She flingeth thee by in scorn! Ah! withered, faded, forlorn. Did she know a true hearts fate With thins was made incorporate? Well, be it so! Be mine the shadow, hers the shine, On lifes dim path I thought divine An hour ago. One more look at the face so fair! One more thought of the grace so rare! One last good-night, one last good-by! We keep our secret, thou and I Come, let us go!

Mrs. Harriet Prescott Spofford Spofford, Harriet Prescott, Mrs. Under the Rose 95-96

UNDER THE ROSE. l)hire (corruption of St. Pierre), tansy (St. Athanasie), which I have seen growing on the tops of Finnish hovels, apparently sown there as a protection, hrier (Briarens ?), senna (sana), sage (saga), ladys-smock, ladys-slipper, holly- hock (holyonk), daffodil (asphodel), amaranth, and passion-flower. It is plain that he who spake of trees from the cedar-ti~e that is in Lehanon even unto the hyssop that spring- eth out of the wall had no wider hospitality than the instinct of mankind for these hnmble gifts of the field and way-side. In the Norse story it was not the idle princes hnt the poor d~varf that found the heaps of pearls concealed under the moss; and there is reason to believe that the country dummlings who have given the common flowers some of the heautiful names just mentioned have not been left without the purer treasures they conceal from all who ns~e not lowly like themselves. No doubt, too, they have served man well mcdicinally; for though of the 400 English herhs in the Complete Herh- al of Nicholas Culpepper, applied to the cure of all disorders incident to man, many were useless in themselves, and some hurtful, it can not he douhtcd that the exchange of the herb- alist for the apothccary and his drugs was to pass from Dr. Log to Dr. Stork. It is generally supposed that mans earliest worship is fepresented hy these superstitious concerning plants and those concerning ani- mals ; that it was from these lower ol~jects that his reverence gradually ascended to the adora- tion of the sun and stars. But I believe that a careful examination of the superstitions which have heen recorded in this paper will furnish many evidences that the case was really the re- verse. it is prohahle that the a~ve which ~vas the beginning of worship was first excited in the human mind when it gazed upon the mys- terious, silent heavens, or witnessed the conflicts of night and day, and the wild power of the ele- ments ahove him. At a later period, and after he had given greater attention to the cultivation of the fruits of the earth, the scene of his inter- est would he gradually shifted from the distant heavens to the near earth, from the cold star to the flower unfolding beneath it. Progress of thought would then, as now, he from minding high things toward condescending to things of low estate, from the unattainable to the attain- ahle. And this would he brought ahout by the increasing perception of the correspondence he- tween the heavens and the earth, each change of the sky heing responded to hy a change in the growths of earth. That many of the flow- ers and trees were reverenced hecause of their real or supposed relation to the heavens we know. The Hindoos say that the hanyan is a tree growing downward, its roots being fed from ahove, where they lie. The myth of Daphne is a particularly triking illustration of the same thing. Daphne is plainly the Sanscrit Dakana, the dawn. Before the advances of Apollo (the sun) the dawn of course perishes, hut its light remains ~vith the laurel. The peculiar crackling of the laurel when hurned (Pliny, lih. xv.) is thought to have occasioned the Roman super- stitions concerning it. A laurel was preserved with great awe in the villa of the Cnsars, on ac- count of the legend that an eagle let fall a hen, which fell into the lap of the Empress Livia, un- hurt, and hearing in its heak the stem from which the tree had heen reared. A very important fact al~so is one of which there can he no doubt, that the flowers chosen hy the German peasants, hy which to divine their fortunes, are nlways those which are star-shapedas the crysanthemon and the daisy. One after another petal is pulled off to a set of phrases, as, Young man, widower, husband Lie loves me, from his heart, with pain, beyond measure, can not leave me, loves me little, not at all ; Single, mar- ried, convent ; and the phrase which represents the destiny is that with which the last petal falls. Another fact of importance is that all the vir tues ascrihed to flowers, plants, etc., were strict- ly connected with times, seasons, and plam~etary influences. Since the introduction of Christian- ity the old astronomical periods and festivals have hecome disguised in the saints days as we now know them ; hut we know that the Christian year conforms very closely to the pa- gan year, which was divided according to the changes of the moon and the relative position of the sun. The significance of the prescription th~ t the potent plants must he gathered under the full moon, or when the sun does not shine, or on St. Johns Day, can not he misunder- stood. The poetic phrase stars of earth was anciently realistic. The same thing might he shoxvn in relation to the sacred animals. It is very douhtful if the serpent was ever worshiped independently; it was as the earthly symbol of the heavenly serpent, the rainbow, or the lightning, that it was venerated. We must then regard the reverence paid to trees and flowers not as fetich-worship, hut as a sacred regard paid to them as oracles of heings higher than themselves, of whose energies they were the only appreciable manifestations. UNDER THE ROSE. Sims timinketh thee dead, 0 rose! Though thy withered petals close, Though thy bloom be dead And thy perfume fled, Yet down in thy heart, Which I tore apart, I kissed a thoughtthat was thy soul! A thought that leaped my hearts control, More passionate and sweet and true Than sweetest rose that ever grew. She flingeth thee by in scorn! Ah! withered, faded, forlorn. Did she know a true hearts fate With thins was made incorporate? Well, be it so! Be mine the shadow, hers the shine, On lifes dim path I thought divine An hour ago. One more look at the face so fair! One more thought of the grace so rare! One last good-night, one last good-by! We keep our secret, thou and I Come, let us go! 96 HARPERS ~4EW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. COLLECTED BY A VALETUDINARTAN. TRAVELING this year in search of some- thing lost, i. e., health, and to appease a heart disquieted by grief, I revisited an old vil- lage on our sea-board for the first time in many years. Its mild and melancholy atmosphere accorded with my mood, and I determined to remain as long as the perturbed ghosts, my present rulers, would permit. The docks were empty, the wharves fallen to decay, the streets were bordered with burdock nnd plantain, and, for the most part, the honses looked as if life and thought had gone away: Through the windows I might see The nakedness and vacancy Of the dark, deserted house. At intervals an ox team dragged its slow length along the roads, or a dilapidated chaise runi- bled by, or the butchers cart rattled on. A child, a dog, a cat sometimes made themselves visible and brightened the scene; an occasional woman, shawl wrapped, now and then appeared; and a few men, either with or without business, moved here and there; a sailor, a carpenter, the doctor, an old man with a cane, and the young gentleman of the place in a smart dress and with a preoccupied air. It was already May, warm enough on sunny days to go into the pastures where the anemone was blowingsprings earliest flower this way lovely with its feathery foliage and tinted blos- som; and the stunted blue violet, just breaking through the cold, gray sod; curious grasses also were springing jp beside the rivulets and ditches, almost flower-like in form and color. I engaged a room at the lonesome hotelwith an ignominious rear and an imposing Doric or Corinthian frontwhich was managed by Mr. Binks, aretired stage-driver. As I settled my belongings I attempted to make myself cheer- ful by recalling early associations, and testing them in a philosophical crucible. However old I had grown, and whatever my past had been, surely the material universe must have remained the same as of yore, and it ought to prove a resource to the seeker. I remembered the words of a sad and sensitive writer, Chateau- briand. It is, he said a natural instinct of the unhappy to seek t~ recall visions of hap- piness by the remembrance of their past pleas- ures. When I feel my heart dried up by inter- course with other men I turn away and give a sigh of regret to the past. It is in the midst of the immense forests of America that I have tasted to the full these enchanting meditations, these secret and ineffable delights of a mind re- jo~cing in itself. When I have found myself alone in an ocean of forests a change took place in me. I said, Here there are no more roads to follow, no more towns, no narrow houses, no presidents, no republics, or kings; above all, no more laws and no more ~ Though neither oak nor maple leaf was un- folded, and the boughs were thin and brown, I could lose myself in the pine woods, which gave the northern part of the country a verdant, grand, and solitary expression. How well I knew them and their sand barrens, where were found arr~v-heads, and the Indian skulls which premeditated them! I fondly wished for all the hooks written on solitude, retirement, com- munion with nature, and upon that text which the medieval Balzac calls Hide your life. It was he who said, so ingeniously, that when he had any auditors about him he cried with all his might: Let us go and live in the country; not only to make sure of rest, but also to make sure of salvation. Let us seek Jesus Christ in the way that He bimself has directed us. He did not say that He was the gold of the palace, the purple of the court. He said that He was the flower of the field, and the lily of the val- ley. Who has written better-on solitude, nnd the pleasures of the past, than the true Parisian authorsthe fops and rakes of fashion and the court? But I brought no books; indeed a bookish reminiscence was a resuscitation, for it had been months since I had read a printed page. Yes, I had chosen the right spot; neither laws nor men could trouble a solitary stranger. Of the present generation inhabiting the vil- lage of course I knew nothing. Feeling as I did, it was no regret that my contemporaries had passed away. The very house I was in proved that every body who might have any knowledge of me was either dead or moved into some other place. It had been built and occupied by a family with which my own had been connected in a commercial way. As a child I had visited the old family. The house was worse than a ruin now, in my opinion, for it had been fixed up by a vulgar taste, which dictated monstrosities in form and color; scroll patterns every where in red and yellow. Hap- pily my room, on one side of the house, had not been retouched; the old paper was on the walls, a satin gray with pink dots, and the chimney-place had not been bricked up accord- ing to modern fashion for an ugly stove. Mr. Binks was astonished at my choice of a room, and still more astonished when I proposed hav- ing a wood-fire. Nobody had wood-fires in the ~vhole place, he insisted. I persisted; I wanted to watch the blaze, and I wanted to arrange and disarrange the sticks and brands at my own good pleasure and that of the tongs. A willful woman must have her way, he said; and I expect you are sick, and maybe wont stay long. So he gave way, and made my room cheerful with birch and hickory fires, and after a little owned that it was the neatest spot in the house. Its dreadful dull out the window here, he remarked. A crow or a robin is all youll see.

Mrs. R. H. Stoddard Stoddard, R. H., Mrs. Collected by a Valetudinarian 96-105

96 HARPERS ~4EW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. COLLECTED BY A VALETUDINARTAN. TRAVELING this year in search of some- thing lost, i. e., health, and to appease a heart disquieted by grief, I revisited an old vil- lage on our sea-board for the first time in many years. Its mild and melancholy atmosphere accorded with my mood, and I determined to remain as long as the perturbed ghosts, my present rulers, would permit. The docks were empty, the wharves fallen to decay, the streets were bordered with burdock nnd plantain, and, for the most part, the honses looked as if life and thought had gone away: Through the windows I might see The nakedness and vacancy Of the dark, deserted house. At intervals an ox team dragged its slow length along the roads, or a dilapidated chaise runi- bled by, or the butchers cart rattled on. A child, a dog, a cat sometimes made themselves visible and brightened the scene; an occasional woman, shawl wrapped, now and then appeared; and a few men, either with or without business, moved here and there; a sailor, a carpenter, the doctor, an old man with a cane, and the young gentleman of the place in a smart dress and with a preoccupied air. It was already May, warm enough on sunny days to go into the pastures where the anemone was blowingsprings earliest flower this way lovely with its feathery foliage and tinted blos- som; and the stunted blue violet, just breaking through the cold, gray sod; curious grasses also were springing jp beside the rivulets and ditches, almost flower-like in form and color. I engaged a room at the lonesome hotelwith an ignominious rear and an imposing Doric or Corinthian frontwhich was managed by Mr. Binks, aretired stage-driver. As I settled my belongings I attempted to make myself cheer- ful by recalling early associations, and testing them in a philosophical crucible. However old I had grown, and whatever my past had been, surely the material universe must have remained the same as of yore, and it ought to prove a resource to the seeker. I remembered the words of a sad and sensitive writer, Chateau- briand. It is, he said a natural instinct of the unhappy to seek t~ recall visions of hap- piness by the remembrance of their past pleas- ures. When I feel my heart dried up by inter- course with other men I turn away and give a sigh of regret to the past. It is in the midst of the immense forests of America that I have tasted to the full these enchanting meditations, these secret and ineffable delights of a mind re- jo~cing in itself. When I have found myself alone in an ocean of forests a change took place in me. I said, Here there are no more roads to follow, no more towns, no narrow houses, no presidents, no republics, or kings; above all, no more laws and no more ~ Though neither oak nor maple leaf was un- folded, and the boughs were thin and brown, I could lose myself in the pine woods, which gave the northern part of the country a verdant, grand, and solitary expression. How well I knew them and their sand barrens, where were found arr~v-heads, and the Indian skulls which premeditated them! I fondly wished for all the hooks written on solitude, retirement, com- munion with nature, and upon that text which the medieval Balzac calls Hide your life. It was he who said, so ingeniously, that when he had any auditors about him he cried with all his might: Let us go and live in the country; not only to make sure of rest, but also to make sure of salvation. Let us seek Jesus Christ in the way that He bimself has directed us. He did not say that He was the gold of the palace, the purple of the court. He said that He was the flower of the field, and the lily of the val- ley. Who has written better-on solitude, nnd the pleasures of the past, than the true Parisian authorsthe fops and rakes of fashion and the court? But I brought no books; indeed a bookish reminiscence was a resuscitation, for it had been months since I had read a printed page. Yes, I had chosen the right spot; neither laws nor men could trouble a solitary stranger. Of the present generation inhabiting the vil- lage of course I knew nothing. Feeling as I did, it was no regret that my contemporaries had passed away. The very house I was in proved that every body who might have any knowledge of me was either dead or moved into some other place. It had been built and occupied by a family with which my own had been connected in a commercial way. As a child I had visited the old family. The house was worse than a ruin now, in my opinion, for it had been fixed up by a vulgar taste, which dictated monstrosities in form and color; scroll patterns every where in red and yellow. Hap- pily my room, on one side of the house, had not been retouched; the old paper was on the walls, a satin gray with pink dots, and the chimney-place had not been bricked up accord- ing to modern fashion for an ugly stove. Mr. Binks was astonished at my choice of a room, and still more astonished when I proposed hav- ing a wood-fire. Nobody had wood-fires in the ~vhole place, he insisted. I persisted; I wanted to watch the blaze, and I wanted to arrange and disarrange the sticks and brands at my own good pleasure and that of the tongs. A willful woman must have her way, he said; and I expect you are sick, and maybe wont stay long. So he gave way, and made my room cheerful with birch and hickory fires, and after a little owned that it was the neatest spot in the house. Its dreadful dull out the window here, he remarked. A crow or a robin is all youll see. COLLECTED BY A YALETUDINARLAN. 97 Swallows, and the grass, and the sky over the fields, also, Mr. Binks, and the three tall pines yonder. Well, Ill give up! You are too much for me, marm; them ere pines are about as aged as any thing since the flood. All necessity for exertion being over, no de- mand of any sort to be made upon me, II fell into a lethargy; thought nothing and felt no- thing for several days; dozed over my fire, or stared vacantly at the fields. Mr. Binks had a housekeeper; but she remained in the dark and backward abysm of the kitchen, and he waited upon me with a magisterial air which dignified the tray he brought to my door three times a day, with a kind, set little speech. lIere is your meal, marm; may you relish it! The weather is softening; the wind is mildermore favorable for invalids. Sartinly you will be round by to-morrow. At last I did get round; that is, I crept down stairs, and Mr. Binks dragged his house- keeper into the parlor to look at me. Didnt I say so, Mary Jane? Aint she down stairs? She hasnt died on my hands, has she ? Mr. Binks, said Mary Jane, always looks on the bright side of things, and you must excuse him. If he was glad to have me down stairs, he was more rejoiced to have me sit at his table. There, to my surprise, I discovered another boarder, who bore a shadowy resemblance to myself, inasmuch as she was dressed in mourn- ing, and looked delicate and feeble. When she saw a purpose of introduction in Mr. Binkss eye, she fluttered and turned her head, but in vain. In a loud voice he said: This is Mrs. Hobson; been with me, off and on, nigh to six yearshavent you, Mrs. Hobson ?and going all the time. Yes, Mr. Binks, she answered, gently in- clining her head toward me, with a twinkle of humor in her eyes. Birds of a feather flock together, added Mr. Binks. By your looks I conclude you have them ere mysterious complaints which make women so unaccountable. My wife was the same; first and last, she cost me a couple of hundred in patent medicines. She would try every individual one. Mrs. Hobson and I exchanged looks, and both of us laughed; the laugh melted the frost between us, and we became friends. Take her for all in all, she was the most self-contained, heroic, patient creature I ever knew. She had come to that pass in life when nothing comes from nothing; consequently she reconstructed trifles into matters which filled up the hours those slow serpents to people who have ex- hausted or lived out all illusion and enchant- ment. She had learned, she told me, to be more interested in a flower-pot than in a gar- den; to derive more satisfaction in the chairs and tables in her own room than she had for- merly felt in setting up a whole house. Yoa. XLILNo. 247.7 Every small thing tells, she said, when one becomes isolated; the soul comes out of it under observation. As for change, that which is good for us we have; it is in the atmosphere its storms and sunshine; in the skyits sun- rise and sunset, its trailing clouds of glory and of gloom. In the sea tooso fixed and ever- varying. Mrs. Hobson never told me her history; I never asked it. Having no wish to reveal mine, why should I demand hers? Mr. Binks, unedu- cated as he was, and as native as an oyster to the place which gave him birth, was delicate and re- fined in his care of her. He told me, soon after I made her acquaintance, that if ever there was a saint upon earth, she was one; that when she died she ought to have a monument equal to Washingtons; that she had come to his house in the dead of winter, accompanied by a young man he thought to ben lawyers clerk, and agreat deal of baggage. In conclusion, he said: Mrs. Sinclair, marm, I expect you have guessed I am an inquisitive man, but I never asked Mrs. Hob- son a question, and I am never going to. She is as good as gold, and as sick as Lazarus. I dont mean that she has any irruption, for she hasnt. She gives fifty dollars every New-Years to the poor, and pays me every Saturday, reglar as clock-work. She has property here. When I began to ramble about the country, Mrs. Hobson accompanied me. She professed gratitude for an opening in her accustomed ways; the small area of wood and field sur- rounding the village she had never explored. I taught her the names and habits of wild flow- ers; how to gather and preserve various deli- cate plants, and how to watch the various and minute laws which are opened to the eye of the student in the book of Nature, which I had learned from ennui. It ~vas Eliza and Hel- en between us soon. One day, when perhaps infected by my enthusiasm at the discovery in the woods of a fragrant and delicious flower, she said: Ehiza, you should have known my cousin Alicia Raymond. Of all the persons I ever knew, von might have understood and aided her. I am foolish that I have never told you the chief reason of my corning to this wild place after my widowhood. Here for some years lived, and died, a woman of genius. Be- hind yonder point on which stands the light- house is an old house, belonging to me now, where she lived. To-morrow we will go there. Alicia Raymond! surely I have heard the name. Is she not in some literary complica- tiona book of the timeor literary diction- ary ? I dare say; her father, Commodore Ray- mond, was proud of her, and published some of her childish performances. His house was frequented by all the distinguished people of his time; but when he died she was forgotten. Talk about Chatterton and Keatsif they did not live in their lifetime, they do now, while Alicias memory only exists in mine and that 98 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. of her brother. Mr. Binks continually says, one half the world does not know how the other half lives. I say, what a mockery the life of genius is! What half of a community knows it? What does even the nearest neigh- boring soul know of it ? Helens passion astonished me. A hectic flush rose in her cheek, and she gesticulated with vehemence. It is all luck, she cried. After old Brontd had lived a starving lifeand God knows what his wife passed through in suffer- ing, aspiration, and contemplation !and after the daughters had starved every waymost of all, starved for Beautyfame came to them. Eliza, what a tragedy was the life of Charlotte Bront~! Do you know that I have a scrap of her handwriting? She did not have paper enough to scribble onthink of that! But I am convinced, from my own experience in this narrowish way of life, where there is nothing which may be called rank, where no one pos- sesses fortune, where all the paraphernalia of living is limited to that which supplies bread and clothing, that this gifted woman, Alicia, discerned a world of beauty and truth that made an everlasting happiness for her great soul, as did Charlotte Brontii. Dear helen, how shall we idlers be taught this ideal happiness ? As soon as we can be made to believe that what is called material or positive happiness is no more truthful or exact than that named vi- sionary or romantic happiness. Mr. Binks, without being aware of a sense of the comic, called us a game pair, when he met us strolling the by-roads; and so we were to the ordinary eye, for who would have guessed that any fire burned in our ashes? We were a couple of faded, middle-aged women, clad in black garments. Why should such indulge in aspirations for happiness, or the expectation of doing any farther work in this gay world? In a day or two after Helens mention of Alicia Raymond, on a calm, sombre afternoon, we took cur way toward the light-house. We will go, said Helen, simply, to the house Alicia last lived in. She gave it to me; the spot, worthless as it is, has chained me; the ground about it is barren; nobody would think of bringing it under cultivation, for it is a mix- ture of swamp and sandy beach; mullein, briers, sedge, and the beach pea dispute pro-eminence. Suppose, Elizaand Helen brightened at the thought that you and I should occupy the house? But we should have to leave out the genius which has made such an impression upon you, and, I confess, upon me also. I have a lively curiosity concerning this Alicia and her sur- roundings. We toiled in silence among the coarse peb- bles of the beach, and climbed over the boulders scattered here and there on our way. The vil- lage grew distant, and the landscape solitary; on the left were swampy pastures, wild thickets, and borders of desolate woods; on the right, the wide bay, with distant headlands and islands uprising in the air. Th~ waves came from afar, spent in their sounding fury, and fell in soft foam round the rocks and the pale smooth sand. The beautiful sea-swallow hov- ered near us, uttering its wild cry, and the lit- tie sand birds ran fearlessly hefore us. No wonder she lived here, Helen! I knew you would like the scene; we are almost theresee We had turned the point now on which the light-house stood, and I saw a large old-fash- ioned house standing in the middle of a natural lawn; t~vo or three cherry-trees were in front of it, and a few fir-trees, indigenous to the soil, twisted and gnarled, but vigorous, were scat- tered over it. Helen took a key from her pocket as we went up a little path. How thick the butter-cups are ! she said, gayly; but j saw that she was deeply moved. Yes, I replied; and the woodpecker is busy also; look at the hole under the eaves by the window-frame! How rank the flags are by the granite step! the ugly things flourish every where. No matter what happens, year after year their dull yellow flowers vulgarly blow. Year after year, she repeated, turning the key and opening the door. So uniform was Alicias life that it seemed eternal till it came to an end; then it was like a vision. Come in now; you will not see bats nor owls, for after a while it became my recreation to keep the house in order. I have given it sun and air; in the summer I pass half my time here. has it not an occupied air ? It was a plain common house; on one side a small parlor, on the other a large one. There was little furniture in either room. A table, a few chairs, book-cases with wide gaps in the shelves, a sofa, a desk, and some portraits on the dingy walls of literary people. I was sur- prised, however, to see the excellence of said portraitsRaeburns Scott, holmess portrait of Byronthe one Byron himself preferred Severns portrait of Keats, a fine engraving of George Sand by Calomme, one of the young Mozart, one of the boy Chatterton, and a few delightful water-colors. Do you mean to say, I asked, that your friend Alicia was perfectly obscure ? Except to a few men and women of letters with whom she corresponded. Look over this desk, please; you may comprehend her taste. She was happy without fame, I believe. I might take her life for a text, and preach a sermon for these crusading days, when women assume so much, and so ardently desire that every assumption should he made public. Do so, if you dare. Every day of Alicias life was made beautiful for the sake of beauty. She taxed all things for this purpose. A bit of moss, a birds feather, an autumn leaf a spray ofgrass served her. Her means went far to suit her artistic habits and tastes. She lived here six years in all. Her only brother re COLLECTED BY A VALETIJDINARJAN. 99 turned from the East Indies with an obstinate disease, and was ordered to pass a year or two in the country. He selected this, where his mother was born. This desk is curious, I said; have you examined it ? Only in a general way; hut look over it. I think, now, Ill give up the place, having been long enough sentimental over it; and it is a trouble to fight with mould and moth. I opened some little drawers; they were full of nick-nacks, ivory boxes, ornaments in agate and marble, pearl and shell carvings, pa- per-knives, gypsum figures, clay vases and box- es, Chinese toys, hits of fine china, engravings, and a hundred other articles. One of the pret- tiest was a green crystal basket in a gold frame. A minute nest was in the basket, and several rose-colored eggs with chocolate spots; a hit of paper was tied to the handle, on which ~vas written Robbed May 20, 64. They were a queer couple, this brother and sister, said Helen. Poking into the deep pigeon-holes of the ancient desk, I came upon a book with a brass lock; it was fastened, but on the cover was printed with a pen: He who does not run may read. Where is the key, Helen ? I have it, and you may read the diary; I never have. Let us go back, it is nightfall nearly. Mr. Binks thinks my mind is unset- tled about this house; he will come for us with a lantern if we wait. As we walked slowly homeward, Helen gave me some particulars of her cousins life. If she had a mania, it was for composition; there were several manuscript volumes in existence, upon which months of labor had been bestowed. Her literary habits were as industrious and methodical as if her work had the market value of a Thackeray or a Dickens. But she had the most self-contained, self-sustaining soul that ever existed, requiring neither praise nor ap- preciation to feed an ambition perfectly pure and lofty in its aims. If she had lived, she might have given her work to the world. Look over the little diary by yourself, helen said, while we were at our supper, and beamed upon by the genial Binks. In my room I opened Alicias volume, and soon felt its fresh, natural atmosphere. April 22, 1864. House on the beach at Bronts Point just taken possession of ~y Broth- er Alton and myself, in the township where our beautiful mother died in our childhood. No- thing threatens recollection of our last city cam- paign. One Juliasweet girlmay enter into his dreams; my vision will he. disturbed by no apparition of tulle, Neapolitan ice-cream, or the waltz band. I know he left the pretty creature to he with me. Ten rooms, up stairs and down, every one shabby and delightful. The rude lawn is full of clover and blooming grasses, and under the lonely stone walls, old as Adam, nicest brambles grow. We pulled down the paling this afternoon before the front of the house. Put up our Mexican hammock between the door and cherry-tree. Such a pretty view from said ham- mock: the lawn running to the beach, which is smooth, for it is the edge of the cove rounding in between two gravelly points, and looks quite lake-like; near the shore it is blue and smooth, when outside it is gray and rough under the beating winds. The waves curve in and fall upon the sand, leaving soft bubbles and silky weeds, bits of drift-wood, snowy and silvery shells, and all the mysterious debris of the sea, daily tossed upon a hundred shores by the relentless tide. On each side of this secluded, fairy-like cove are groups of richly stained rocks. Ahove all this sea arid shore I can watch the sunrise and sunset. But what civilized being ever sees a sunrise? The room with windows commanding this view I have named my ownthis where I at this moment am. Funny gray paper on the walls, with sepia pic- tureselegant fox-hunters on high-bred horses, hounds, whippers-in, a pleasant wood, and an impossible fountain. I have hung red curtains before the windows, and filled the mantel-piece with Indian china; matting is laid upon the floor, and the furniture is covered with Altons Indian chintzpeacocks, parrots, birds of para- dise, all so lively that I expect them to scream at any moment. A wood - fire burns in the chimney; Alton sits on the brick hearth beside it, a novel in his hand, his booted legs crossed, and he tugs at his mustache perfectly abstract- ed. Jalia, I cry, from some impulse of mis- chief. He starts, drops his book, and says: Confound you, Alicia! Is she at the shut- ters? I thought I heard a woman whimper. It is only the water lapping the shore, Alton; better music than that of a womans tongue. Shut yours, then, and go on with your pen. Its scratching is an opiate. I dare say what you write would prove a sleeping-draught to your reader. Alton picks up his book, rustles a page or two, then lights a cigar, and resumes his musings. As I scribble on he rouses once more, winking his long black eyelashes, and says: Sis Alicia, literary people, after all, are only coral worms. It takes a million to make a little reef in the ocean. But the reef is there, Alton. Yes; and how much drifts to the patient minute structure !weeds; all the refuse of the violence of the deep; weary sea-birds, with seeds of plants in their crops; the tangle of strong cur- rents from pole to poleand a world is made! I have half a mind to call you Coralline. Go to bed, my boy, or how shall I ever write a proper description of this house Ill go, my love, and snore to the breakers of Bronts Point. The air is superb coming through the shattered panes. And I ~hall be so hungry in the morning. What have you in the larder ? Nothing; I will watch for a fisherman. Exit Alton with a grimace and loud yawn. Yes, this room suits meat midnightthe pres- ent hour. Here is my new patent inkstand, which promises to be a failure, and a paper- weight with a bird on it unlike any known spe- cies of bird, and my comfortable port-folio under the shaded lamp. I have filled up the china 100 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. closet with illustrated books. Their gold, red, and green backs glisten behind the glass door. What friends they are! A dead author is better than a live friend: the one can not change nor fail, the other may. Rogers, Gray, Bloomfield, Goldsmith, B~ranger, Tennyson, my goodly com- pany! The last brand has fallen on the hearth, and the white ashes cover the coals. The bay gives tongue under the moon. A journal is a good thingto express that which is neither in the heart nor brain! By-the-way, in rumma- ging my brain to-day I believe that I thanked God for suddenly feeling virile; I mean that I emerged from my fog. Why is Alton tramping overhead? Pooh! what is the feeling of a rest- less heart? April 28.East wind. The chimneys have smoked. We had trout for dinner to-day. Al- ton caught them in a hrook a mile above us, on the other side of the high bill at the back of the house, where the sun seems to sit down and rags of clouds gather and hide. Spying inside nnd outside of myself for the fashion of my novel. The hero is vital. What name can I give him Greek, Oriental, or English? Cleon, Ilafiz, John! Come, let me clutch thee! Lonely old town this. Nobody comes to see us; evidently there is no social system in vogue. Somebody went by, though, to-daya man with a horse, cart and pitchfork; all went over our lawn straight to the beach. When I saw his purpose that of gathering sea-weedI went out and helped him; that is, I poked over the long green ribhons dashed up by the tide, and discovered shelly creatures on their first voyage from home, bright and smooth pebbles, and umber tufts of fat weeds. I hope Helen Ilobson will visit us soon. So much of society as she can give I ic- quire. I laid the diary down and songht Ilelen. I have left off at the mention of your name, helen. Do you wonder at my permitting you to read a private record? I shrink from it. Will you go through with it? Since you came I have de- cided to settle my affairs so far as that old place is concerned. When Alicias papers are look- ed over and every thing removed, I will sell the house. When yon l~tve the town I will go also, for I can no longer endure it. We will not precisely play Naomi and Ruth, but I trust we may not live far apart. What about the brother Alton ? lie will never return here. Nothing could induce him to look at any thing which mi~ht remind him of the l6st Alicia, the sister he loved so wonderfully ~vell. The delay is owing to him. Many letters have passed between us on the subject of Alicias papers and posses- sions, and the house which she gave me. He has refused over and over again to have any thing to do with them, and at last, thanks to you, I have decided for myself. Read the frag- mentary journal, and then give me your opin- ion whether any of her manuscript should be published. I should not imagine her a solitary or ec- centric person from the little I have read. She was alive and at home with every thing except human companionship; but I never un- derstood her. I dare say; no one understood her. Have you thought of that as a reason for her isola- tion? What should drive one into solitude, if a lack of comprehension of ones sincerest feel- ings and motives can not? And then, what strange modes of expression pride of soul will take! There are those, even in this jostling, crowded world, whose virgin hearts take alarm at the least approach to or necessity for revelation. They wait for some other world to he developed insome unknown deity to govern them. I like this Alicia; she has her own atmosphere. Maybe I am sent here to be aided by her. Helens eyes glistened. Be, then, she exclaimed, my atonement. Your mind is nearer hers than my futile, vacil- lating one was. Alicia is one of my dearest memories. Teach me to hope that she forgave me for every shortcoming of obtuseness, igno- rance, and habit. What wretchedly imperfect, unfinished creatures we are! The flood did not wash us right, after all. Some occult influence led me the next calm, cloudy afternoon to the old house by the sea, Alicias home. I was glad to be alone. The grass on the lawn waved me a welcome; but- ter-cups glistened in it; bees and butterflies hummed and hovered every where. The wind sounded a fitful melody round the eaves, and shook the tall cherry-trees before the door. I had Alicias diary with me. Taking a seat on the granite gate-sill, I opened it; as I read, shadows flickered over the page, the wind flut- tered the leaves, stalks and unripe cherries fell into my lap, and birds constantly twittered over my head. I was Alicia, or I was the dream of myselfwhich? I looked toward the vague, blue horizon where land and water blended, and should not have been surprised to see a colossal reflection of either uprising in the dis- tance. May 0.My birthday. Alicia, the child of an unhappy mother, is twenty-eight to-day. Sho! The gray water laps the paler sand, glimmers and trembles; the purple clouds glide by. In- sidious Spirit of Beauty, dark or bright, you lurk every where. May 8.Poor fellow! his grave is nameless. So shall mine be. May 10.happy again under this sky, before this sea. Is happiness atmospheric? Read Vic- tor Hugt~ novel, The Toilers of the Sea. A Greek poem in French. Greeka little dis- tracted. May 15.Happier perhaps for being wrapped in a cloud of illness. Civilized people for the most part have nurses when they are ill. The black woman in the kitchen does not care for me, and while I suffer Alton stays in the woods. There is a deep frown on his face; I know what it means. lie does not know how to approach me. Jeae 3.I am gay. A box of books came to-day. So much good reading in so much good COLLECTED BY A VALETUDINARIAN. 101 solitude. I see why Alton likes Faith Unwin. The lonely, pathetic, simple tenor of human feel- ing suits him. Alas! why and for what should I torture my genius? Let it he in its afrite box small, neat, compact. It need not rise in a cloud of smoke and assume in some kindred imaginative mind shape and meaning. Jane 10.I watched the road for Helen lob- son this morning. She did not come. Walked out and picked field flowers, so gay now every where. Jane 11. helen came with a pair of ame- thyst ear-rings for me, a sketch by M Entee so like my frienda bower of trees, a glimpse of blue, and a solitary wanderer beneath the boughs. Art is better than nature. XVe talked, at first, about newspapers and relijon. 1-lelen ate a great deal. Next day we parted at the gates of Ispahanthat is, Alton drove us to the railway station, six miles away. He made us swallow a mouthful of whisky from his flask, and muttered something which made Helen col or. I did not understand him; but a moment after I discovered tears on my face. Suppose I was intoxicated. Heavens! XVhat does it all mean? Are we wretched? What are we playing at, in this mechanical way? Shadows over the scenedeath-ripples, gliding over the surface so glassy and hard! All forgetfulness must be intoxication. Jane 12.Summer drops in for a few hours on our bleak coast daily. Threw stones into the water to-day. Saw in the sand ~rmilion spiders, and black, swift-gaited Qnes. The blue scentless violet still blooms near the dead sea- weed, and the vivid yellow cinque-foil. Head the cook-book. Dashed into the opening of my novel. First line----very striking: On ca an- tunin morning June 20.I like old buggy fields. The sweet- est flowers grow there, the greenest moss; there birds congregate, and the frog doth flourish. I brought home from said bog,,iness a bunch of (lelicious white violets, and put them to Altons nose. lIe was lying in the hammock, with his hat pulled over his eyes. lie caught my hands, an(l drew my face to his. Alicia, my love, how are you? Tell me, do you suffer? One way, yes; two ways, no. And how are you, master? Bored one way; two ways, no. How handsome you are, my dear Aint I? Bring out the big looking-glass, quick! He kept my violets; where they went to I could not discover. No letters have come to him. Where is that heartless girl? Pooh! she is not heartless. Jane 21.The sea is awfully full to-night. It runneth here, it runneth there, crowding round all the points, pressing up every pier, and wave kisses wave. Head Tom Cringles Log a first-rate nautical novel. June 27.Telegram scared us to-day. Alton is summoned to the city upon some Indian busi- ness. He looked so wistfully at me when he came for a good-by that I said, See Julia, by all means, and give her my love. Can you love her ? he asked, eagerly. Ill try. You never will, Alicia; lam a fool to ask it. Cried, and made a beautiful loaf of cake after he left. Then fell to reading. Wordsworth is a good doctor for the mind. June 28.It struck me just now that I should never be happier. I am alone with my own power. What I decide to be, that I am for myself. So long as I am solitary, how can I be convicted of error? Last night I sat in Altons deserted room and watched the orange sunset waning slow. The moon rose, and I saw spec- tral sails gliding down the bay and vanishing beyond a range of purple cloud. The sea grew wild as the moon rode up the sky; its tumult filled the air. Nothing in nature can be finer than these scenes in these hours. From nature, went to Wordsworth again; he is a teacher, as many painters and musicians are. Jnly 1.Droning on my novel with faith and a tormented conscience. Shall I dare tell the truth about men and women? Can any wild in- vention excuse me for bringing to light that which exists with reason and with passion? Who may speak if I can not? I fear not my un- born publisher. No feat of my mind can deprive me of the fixed income which provides me bread; nothing can separate me from my sole living love Altonnothing from my sole friendship with Helen llobson. As for opinion, criticism, ad- mirers, enemieshow can I be reached here, or farther onthe grave? One may be egotistical on waste paper, as this is; and I assert that I have an experience in the life of love, enjoyment, and suffering which, frankly expressed and de- scribed, shouU teach timid and ignorant hearts their capacities and their limits. I-have I the power? Shall I build better than I know, if I go on? On, I mean so; but must leave my pen and paper behind me, then. July 2.My woodland walks are perfect now. The ladys-slipper is blooming above the pine needles; its pink-veined hanging bells, between two pointed green leaves, looked so pretty in the dry underbrush this afternoon. I dreamed away several hours under an aged, flat-topped yellow pine; the air was indescribably delicious; every time I looked about me found some new flower, among them the dwarf Solomons-sealan em- erald, grooved leaf, with tiny dots of ~vhite flowers on the tiny stalk. Numerous grasses are in bloom, attractive in form, and dull, delicate in shade. Came home and fbund Alton drinking claret out of the pale Bohemian glasses, that is, one glass. Talk about writing novels and speak- ing the truth! Here we two were together, kindred souls at that, in utter ignorance of each others moods and circumstances, having been parted a day or two, and as shy as strangers Where have you been, Alicia ? In the ~voods. You mean tree woods ? Yes; the breezy, aromatic, uninterfering woods. Go with me now there; sunset will not come off this two hours. Besides, there is no more beautiful moment than that when the suns last rays drop below the level trunks. The birds sing their evensong; and the insects, creatures of night, begin their oratorio. Then, for greet- ing, too, the shrubs send up odors to mingle with the flying crimson clouds. So we started. I continually said to myself, Poor moth, glow-worm, vain-banging beetle, 102 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. seeking the light and prating about novels ! see your ladyship, and your indifference is kill~ ~\Thatever Altons thoughts were, he showed no ing. disturbance, looked from right to left, and at last So I was afraid. I wish to make amends. said, Hist, hush ! We stood still, and pres- and beg you to talk with me. Alton, go away. ently heard the whir of wings and stifled chirps. Leave Mr. Dresden and myself together. I am Come out of the path, under the scrub oaks, forgetting human beings, among all these waves he said; it is dry. Here is the moss, with its grass, and insects. red eyes. See here, with such tbiags in it, Alicia, Shrugging his shoulders, and giving a pitying smile to Dresden, he sauntered off, candle in the world is pretty. I looked into a holly-bush, as be directed, and hand. close to the ground was a thrushs nestfour lit- Mr. Dresden and I looked at each other and tie chocolate-colored birds in it. The father and laubhed. mother, with square cinnamon tails, kept near Tell and teach me, Miss Alicia, he begged. us, with distressing cries. I am but a baby of thirty-five, you know. Jui~q 6.Read Emerson, who makes apparent You can mention insects. the originality of other authors. Read the I am old too. Look at my hair.~~ Simon ~f George Sand. Her case gives me With sudden passion he kissed the band on despair. I was alone in to-nights deepening my forehead. dusk, still and unoccupied; the walls of an invis- Oh, Alicia, do not he such a heavenly icicle. ible, fearful destiny 1 felt to be slowly closing What can I do to please you? Give imp your round me. The cold gray sea, monotonously dreadful isolation, or let me share it with yon. roaring, typified it. Horrible existence, now se- Come; let rue carry your camp-stool and your , rene enough to contemplate inevitable death. umbrella. ill mend your pens to my dying day, July 8.The tissue complains to the brain, learn botanyany thing. Or, better and here Ones organs will not be subservient to intellect- he caught my hands come out into my world, uni action. They shall be, though. Wish I be my wife! Dont you kno~v that my father has could get some black ink. Made a raid in the lately left me a large fortune? Alton knows it. shops on Maia Street for it, and that put me in I have his best wishes. We three shall never better spirits. Saw blue yarn, eggs, but no ink, separate. I love you, Alicia. I am worthy even Lighted on a piece of lovely chintz, and bought you. it for Altons windows. What! Does Alton know that you would .July 10.Two military officers arrived. Wore marry me? Will lie give me away ? my violet grenadine and black l#ce. Altons No away about it. Visionary, Qnixotic girl, eyes beamed when I came in to dinner. Had yes! My love, let us go to the Old World, cities roasted chickens, and the gold brand Champagne. whose legends enchant you, to the birth-place of The ice was slightly troubled with roots. Won- the genius you worship, time cradle of the arts dered whether they were the filaments of the you revere. Arethimsa pink, or the adders-tongue. Officers Oh, the pictures that flashed across my soul talked about icebergs being at the north yet. as he spoke the glowing vision of life without be- Also cursed war movements. Ate up all the ing aware of it! I put my hand ma his; he saw dinner. Smoked terribly, and went away with tears in my eyes. inane compliments. Alton ! he shouted. July 18. My days go on. No motive for Instantly, like a ghost, Alton stood in the writing. lhe moth-millers distract me. The doorway. beetles fly about greatly o nights also. Full- Do you mean for me to marry Dresden ? I blooded summer swells the sea and is in my asked. veins. Let me sew a womanly seam. Who am I mean that you shall do as you choose to I to summon giants? I remember a fine, sacred do, he answered, stamping his foot. But I soulvanished. He had the best of mine, yet like Dresden; he is good, strong. left me. Eternally my heart is his. How frail I can not die abroad. Somehow I can not and rapid my memorials recalling himthe west- fall in love, either. I wished most seriously to em wind blowing after sunset ~vhen the sky is love you, Mr. Dresden. Whats the matter with still emerald and amber, and distant shrub and me? I am fond of you. But you must leave me. flowers send their odors to me, when the white Alicia, you are a fool ! said Alton. Come water is motionless, and the crescent moon gives away, Dresden. me silvered beams, where we often were, Arnold Not I; I intend to talk with Alicia; you can and I. take leave again of me. I begin to understand .Jely 20.The fields are wonderful, a mass of your sister. white, yellow, and blue blossoms in the deep, And we did talk deep into the night. I like waving beds of green. Alton makes my heart him better, much better; but what would be- ache. His eye passes me by, even when his smile come of my literary career? A strong mans is most pleasant, his voice most kind. Somebody love must interfere with my hero; and my her- sent me a bunch of white roses to-day. A friend oine might interfere with him. came unexpectedly. Alton is playing cards with July 23.He has gone. I feel free. What him in the east room. I saxv this friend for the a perfect sunset we had !purple drifts, crimson first time in November last. What is he here bars suffusing the sea, and then grew clearest for? I wish I could fall in love with him. It light in the sky, with Venus, red and diamond- might amuse us this summer weather. pointed, beside the young moon. I found to-day Two hours afterward. a great hmnar moth sticking to a bush; splendid SirMr. Dresden, I asked, do cards creature; hid him in my handkerchief, brought amuse you ? him home, administered chloroform, and pinned Not in the least. I came all these miles to him on the curtain. COLLECTED BY A VALETUDINARIAN. 103 Poor Dresden, said Alton, who was ~vatch- ing me. Kiss me, brother dear; I am lonely. He complied, and then heaved a sigh. I con- tinued: It need make no difference to you Alton put his hand over my mouth. Hush! the lunar is kicking still, Alicia. .July 30.Brought home a bunch of the wax- like flowers of the round-leafed winter-green. It has a penetrating odor, resembling that of the tuberose. More than the glory iu the grass, the splendor in the flower, I long for; their beauty suggests that which I require. The evening is profoundly quiet; the shield of the full moon shines in the water. Alton is floating upon it; I see the sail of his boat on the edge of the moons wt~ke, where the water is dark; the sail is motion- less. Jam going out to walkhave had the heart- ache before in moonlight nights, and out-of-doors too. After a while my heart will be uplifted; something from the mysterious stars, far off as they are in the void, will come down to my aid. August 1.Gathered fresh immortelles to-day from the sand-banks between here and Gilford. Filled Arnolds glassthe one he drank from lastwhich I keep by me always. Arnold! Why should I dream of other love, either in speaking or writing? By-the-way, Alton and I have read six novels this week, full of conven- tional white-kid love. August 21.Blank to me, and all out-of-doors looked blank. September 3.Dog-days. Goethe says: The highest problem of every art is, by means of appearances, to produce the illusion of a loftier reality. That is, however, a false effort which, in giving reality to the appear- ance, goes so far as to leave in it nothing but the common everyday actual. Wordy, this; and yet when I think how I lie about Lecretia, the heroine of my novelthat is, how I enlarge and diverge from the slender stock of the real expe- rience from which I derive my LacretieI per- ceive that Goethe, the calculating, is right. I cia afraid, after all. Or do I follow the prin- ciple governing the universe, that every flower must have an ugly rootthat behind or back of all beauty is the black, rough, coarse structure? Who has ever looked thoroughly into the lining of things? First rough beams to support our dwell- lags; then rough laths and mortar; then delicate, beautifully colored papers, or fresco painting; and upon that pictures, the culmination of art! September 10.Dog-days have a merit of their own, a variety. Excellent aromatic fogs; vivid sunshine to ripen wild, luscious berries; heavy dews to comfort the dying grass and hardy, low- ly herbs, and to moisten the painted leaf before it drops to the cold, waiting earth. I wander on; pretend to be artistic and intellectual, and all that, when I know that Altons life beats loud- ly for Julia, the woman he loves. I shall hate to send for her. If she has a heart she must love this spot. I say that, although it is on the New England coast, near Plymouth Rock throne of the exalted Puritansit is beautiful. Yes, I would have her here already. I cough so, I suppose that I must die soon, and I do not want to leave Alton alone. For, let him start at the hour of my death, for any spot on any con- tinent, he would be alone unless some kind, by- ing woman should accompany him, to watch and guard him. September 20.Autumn days, autumn fields not happy autumn fields. The days that are no more are not betweeu us yet. We tremble, we suffer; still our eyes behold them. What trivial things we say to each other dailyabout the wind, weather, flowers, each other! Oh, my poor boymy brother! September 26.Marsh marigold, and golden- rod, and wild asters, star-like, white, and laven- der blossoms thickly strewing every path. Well, flowers make me believe in God. In the most secret and waste places they bloom. In the ditch, thicket, swamp, beneath the trees choked with thorns and thistles. Still, God need not convict us if we do not choose to watch and fol- low nature. Oh. miserable, canting generation, groveling in the ignorance of your forefathers! And why should the forefathers be reproached? Cain killed Abel, and nobody has excused Cain. Where did his vice come from? September 28.Now the days are inclined to thin mist. The crows are busy between shore and wood, cawing perpetually. The crickets chirp day and night; they creep into the house, under the hearth, into the wall, into every crev- ice. I like the unfeeling cricket. If we are very sad, we do not heed his voice; if we are merry, we say, how sociable and friendly the cricket is. Tbe grass has changed. The sedge through which the tide washes is brown and sure. All these months gone, with bud, blossom, and fruit, and I have done nothing. Thirty chapters in my novelall wrong, maybe. At any rate, I walked the room and felt my eyes water over the last one. Heres my journal, any how. How may we impart to each other the ineffable ?poor, poor word! flow shall we help our neighbor souls with our nameless self-exaltations, which, noble and generous, do not seem to belong to our personality? They are not actions, nor re- solves even. Yet, what moves and governs the world? By this prating I do not mean to say that I have done the ineffable with my pen. September 30.The brake along our rough granite walls is rich red- brown, pale amber, yellow-brown. Cheery autumn, dying so richly loving summer, while reaching toward winter. This ineffectual record must end. Helen fob- son may read it; perchance, some person she loves, for Helen never liked trouble of any sort. October is at hand. Leaves lie on the grass al- ready with decays many tints. You shall not stay beyond the first frost, Alicia, orders my dear Alton, this evening. Oh, my darling, think of the Indian sum- mer; let me stay! I have written to Dresden. We are all go- ing to the country you have dreamed ofItaly. I pretended not to hear him. Wont you shoot any this month? Some- body says For solemn autumn came with yellow wing. I take it to be snipe or plover; black wings and yello~v legs, you know. Dear Alicia, I love you so that I will allow von to kiss me. Poor Dresdena better fellow than I am; got more money. I pull the boys yellow mustache, and he nips my cheek. 104 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Dont be a goose, he continues, but get ready and go, just as any sensible girl would. Let you and I, fair sister, look Into the futures radiant book, And learn its lessons, and the scope It offers to the hearts that hope; And we will hope; for, sister, mark, To-morrow is not always dark! Alton, Alton 1 In a moment I am in his arms, and we are weeping together. We say no more about de- parture. I determine to send for Julia Beaufort. How can I endure her? I must, though, for she will come. October 8.A delicate frost. It gave me a cold. Alton has been savage to-day. Pulled a few autumn-stained maple leaves at eve, and saw that the lady-birch was growing yellow fast. The children brought us berriesthe last, they said. I asked Alton should I preserve them for his sweet tooth. He answered, Yes, and I went to him. Tears were in his beautiful eyes. Alicia, darling, am I a brute ? No, dear; you are angry because I can not live. You shall live, by Heaven! you shall live. What does God mean by all this daily agony? My love, ever since we have been in this secluded spot, do you know that I have seen young men and women, idols to somebody, dying with your insidious, treacherous, terrible disease? I can not bear it. There is no reason about it. Talk about chastening and discipline; these things, destroying life and happiness, make us infidels. Yes, I know it, dear. I have a note from Julia; she ~vill be here in a day or two. He did not speak a word, but kissed me re- peatedly, and then went away. October 20.Julia Beaufort has been here a few days; she is quite a child, hut she has never suffered. How pretty she is! I like to watch her. What a lover Alton is! his eyes continu- ally stray in my direction; if I leave the room he follows me. Sometimes he sits at Julias feet, sometimes beside her, with his arm about her, but he always appears absent, dreaming, and asks her, Am I not dull, missy? You do not really think me worth the having, I know; if you do, what will happen? I only know how to care for old Aliciasailing sisters. Let me go, Julia. I would, if it were not for parting from this same Alicia. I have accepted you on her ac- count; she is dearer than you to me. Then I love you, child. And I know that they love each other with a gentle affection, though there is a shadow upon it; but that will pass. Love will have its way. George Sand says, upon the bones of the dead, or upon a bed of roses, it is all the same to lov- ers. The drama here refreshes me. One way I see that I have failed in the story I am writing; that is, they teach me so. Alton loves Julia enough to make her his wife and the mother of his children; the desire to possess another wo- man will not enter into his heart. Yet, deep in the core of that noble heart is an undying love and regret for me. Every fibre of his soul rec- ognizes me as his mate. What a pity! Yet he will be happy. Farewell, children; you have not seen me cry. October 28.Gray skies, gray sea, grayboughs. The winds rise and wail so, and we have long dull rains. Julia went away yesterday. The wedding is arranged. She cried terribly when she kissed me, and said she had never been so happywhat a girls reason for weeping! I promised to be with her; but I have a convic- tion that if I leave this house I shall never re- turn to it. What does that matter, though? I am on the last chapters of my book; I ventured to read two or three of the later ones to Julia. She clapped her hands at first, then grew silent; as I read on her delicate cheek crimsoned, her eyes blazed, she moved near me, took my hand, and kissed it. I refused to read her more. Oh, sister! she cried, how dare you tell the truth about us women? And, where have you lived, what have you done ? Does knowledge imply a wandering up and down the space of continents, and the speaking of French and Italian ? Not that, she stammered; but I thought that you had been so entirely apart every way from the common herd. I did not know that one could create without experience. Nor can one; like Ulysses, I am a part of all that I have seen; and much good it has done me, hasnt it ? I do not understand you, dear Alicia; does Alton ? Yes. Oh, I am so afraid of himand you too. Thank you for giving me your written thoughts, though; I shall never forget them. Now I am glad that she knows a thought of mine. I went about the house after she had gone, Alton having taken his departure for the woods with his gun, and never liked the rooms so little, they were so empty, desolate, and dark. I shut two or three entirely. Next year, I said to myself. Then I packed some boxes of nick-nacks and put labels to themthat was dreary too; and I was glad to hear Altons tramp and cheery whistle. November 2.Alicia Raymondher mark. Suddenly Alton ordains that we leave. Into a pigeon-hole goes this journal. I shall leave this room habitablethat is, I will have nothing set in order. helen may do that for me. This was Alicias last record. Helen told me that Alicia died abroad. When her brother Alton returned to this coun- try she, Helen, was sent for, and the old house, with Alicias papers andlast wishes, given to her. You should have seen, said Helen, in con- clusion, Alicias roomthe one where you found her journal. When I opened the shut- ters to let the light in I could not for a mo- ment persuade myself that Alicia or Alton would not presently enter, the bustle and pres- ence of an occupation were so evident. Altons cfgar ashes and newspaper and an open book were on one table. At another I saw Alicias little work-basket, with bits of muslin hanging from it; a vase of flowers arranged by her hands the day she left, probably, now black and rough; a pair of slippers were under her chair beside it, with blue rosettes. At the desk were loose papers, letters, boxes, and a tied-np bunch of grassesfallen to seed and scattered like dust; BLOCKADE-RUNNING. 105 the chairs were opposite each other, or in groups, as if company had lately sat in them, and the sofa-pillows were tumbled where some one had been resting. It was like a mirage. Then it grew terribly painful. It was a long time be- fore I threw away the flower-stalks even; but you know that some material things must be taken care of, and I was forced to let in air and sunshine. As you know, also, I have nev- er looked into Alicias papers. Now what do you think of her ? I think if there were more minds among us equal to themselves, as hers appears to have been equal to her highest needs, we should have a better literature. I doubt whether she would ever have been induced to publish any thing. But is it not a pity she should be lost to the world ? She has her world in Alton, in you, and will have in me. Did Alton marry Julia ? Yes; and she cherishes Alicias memory tenderly. That is enough. BLOCKADE-RUNNING. THE labors of our brave sailors during the late war have not received that attention which their merits deserve. So numerous and so near at home were the battleswe kept our eyes so steadily fixed on the armies that trav- eled up and down under different leaders be- tweenWashington and Richmondthat we have hardly done justice to the work of the navy. Yet the blockade of the Southern coast on so short a notice, and with so small an armament to begin with, is one of the wonders of the nineteenth century. A coast line of 3549 stat- ute miles, longer than the whole coast of Eu- rope from Cape Trafalgar to Cape North, the longest line of blockade ever attempted, was by no means the chief difficulty. That low and sandy line of coast before the Southern States is pierced by 189 openings for commerce, equal- ly open to smuggling. Our Southern coast is double-fronted: one view looks out upon the broad Atlantic; the other westward upon a long line of internal water-communication bays, channels, rivers, lagoons, swamps, that pierce the land in all directions. Storms will so change the shifting sands of each bar that the channel of to-day will sometimes become the dry land of to-morrow. And all along that coast dwelt a population keenly alive to the pe- cuniary advantage of successfully welcoming the English stranger; happily triumphant ~vhen it could deceive or destroy the Yankee invader. When Mr. Lincoln proclaimed the blockade in April, 1861, it caused a remarkable inequal- ity of prices. On one side of the Atlantic were thousands of bales of cotton, which was rising in price over all the world except in the South- ern States; and on the other side were powder and guns, coffee and tea, medicines and woolen goods, begging to be exchanged for this very cotton; and the only separation between these goods was that paper proclamation. A single cargo that could enter those forbidden ports was a fortune in itself. To evade that procla- mation all the skill, all the greed, all the nau- tical science of Great Britain were called into requisition. fhe fires of the ship-yards of London and the Clyde roared with unwonted activity to supply the great demand for swift- sailing vessels. Success would pay larger pre- miums than were ever attained by any legiti- mate business in the worlds commercial history; fully equal to the profits realized from Spanish galleons by the Drakes and Frobishers of the Elizabethan age; nearly equal to the profits of the slave-trade. To win this success English seamen entered into the perilous but lucrative service with alacrity. The price of steamers rose with great rapidity what matter if a thousand pounds too much were paid for the vessel? a successful trip would realize tens of thousands. The London Times of November 25, 1863, says that three fine steamers had that week been sold to run the blockade: the Gale- doaia; the baa, that sold for $100,000; and the Fairy, that had been used by Prince Alfred in his trip round the Scottish coastthree of the best steamers built on the Clyde. The vessel that royalty had hardly ceased to use was now employed to break the laws of a friendly power. All three of them had ministered to the enjoy- ment of travelers during the season, and were none the better for their summers wear; but their second-hand prices brought more than their original cost. Two more steamers were building at that time for the same purpose. Should the demand, says the Times, con- tinue at this rate, there will soon be scarcely a swift steamer left on the Clyde. The steam- boat owners never before had such a harvest, some of their steamers having been sold for nearly double their original cost, and that after a seasons use. In December the same paper relates that a new steamer, the Greyhound, hav- ing developed unexpected speed on her trial trip, Liverpool and Manchester were both after her within three days, and she finally went to Liverpool, having realized a high price. But her speed only brought ruin to her new owners. She was captured by the United States steamer Goanecticut, and sold with her cargo for about half a million of dollars. The capture of the bark Spriagbok was one of the first that called public attention to the legal results of the blockade. This vessel, British built and owned, left London for Nas- sau in December, 1862, and was captured the following February, one hundred and fifty to two hundred miles east of Nassau. her clear- ance was legal, she was sailing between two English ports, and apparently on legitimate business. If she intended to violate the laws of the United States, it could only be subse- quent to her present voyage. But on her cap- ture a large part of her cargo was found to be contraband of ~var. There were 50,000 navy buttons, stamped C. S. N., evidently intended

W. R. Hooper Hooper, W. R. Blockade-Running 105-109

BLOCKADE-RUNNING. 105 the chairs were opposite each other, or in groups, as if company had lately sat in them, and the sofa-pillows were tumbled where some one had been resting. It was like a mirage. Then it grew terribly painful. It was a long time be- fore I threw away the flower-stalks even; but you know that some material things must be taken care of, and I was forced to let in air and sunshine. As you know, also, I have nev- er looked into Alicias papers. Now what do you think of her ? I think if there were more minds among us equal to themselves, as hers appears to have been equal to her highest needs, we should have a better literature. I doubt whether she would ever have been induced to publish any thing. But is it not a pity she should be lost to the world ? She has her world in Alton, in you, and will have in me. Did Alton marry Julia ? Yes; and she cherishes Alicias memory tenderly. That is enough. BLOCKADE-RUNNING. THE labors of our brave sailors during the late war have not received that attention which their merits deserve. So numerous and so near at home were the battleswe kept our eyes so steadily fixed on the armies that trav- eled up and down under different leaders be- tweenWashington and Richmondthat we have hardly done justice to the work of the navy. Yet the blockade of the Southern coast on so short a notice, and with so small an armament to begin with, is one of the wonders of the nineteenth century. A coast line of 3549 stat- ute miles, longer than the whole coast of Eu- rope from Cape Trafalgar to Cape North, the longest line of blockade ever attempted, was by no means the chief difficulty. That low and sandy line of coast before the Southern States is pierced by 189 openings for commerce, equal- ly open to smuggling. Our Southern coast is double-fronted: one view looks out upon the broad Atlantic; the other westward upon a long line of internal water-communication bays, channels, rivers, lagoons, swamps, that pierce the land in all directions. Storms will so change the shifting sands of each bar that the channel of to-day will sometimes become the dry land of to-morrow. And all along that coast dwelt a population keenly alive to the pe- cuniary advantage of successfully welcoming the English stranger; happily triumphant ~vhen it could deceive or destroy the Yankee invader. When Mr. Lincoln proclaimed the blockade in April, 1861, it caused a remarkable inequal- ity of prices. On one side of the Atlantic were thousands of bales of cotton, which was rising in price over all the world except in the South- ern States; and on the other side were powder and guns, coffee and tea, medicines and woolen goods, begging to be exchanged for this very cotton; and the only separation between these goods was that paper proclamation. A single cargo that could enter those forbidden ports was a fortune in itself. To evade that procla- mation all the skill, all the greed, all the nau- tical science of Great Britain were called into requisition. fhe fires of the ship-yards of London and the Clyde roared with unwonted activity to supply the great demand for swift- sailing vessels. Success would pay larger pre- miums than were ever attained by any legiti- mate business in the worlds commercial history; fully equal to the profits realized from Spanish galleons by the Drakes and Frobishers of the Elizabethan age; nearly equal to the profits of the slave-trade. To win this success English seamen entered into the perilous but lucrative service with alacrity. The price of steamers rose with great rapidity what matter if a thousand pounds too much were paid for the vessel? a successful trip would realize tens of thousands. The London Times of November 25, 1863, says that three fine steamers had that week been sold to run the blockade: the Gale- doaia; the baa, that sold for $100,000; and the Fairy, that had been used by Prince Alfred in his trip round the Scottish coastthree of the best steamers built on the Clyde. The vessel that royalty had hardly ceased to use was now employed to break the laws of a friendly power. All three of them had ministered to the enjoy- ment of travelers during the season, and were none the better for their summers wear; but their second-hand prices brought more than their original cost. Two more steamers were building at that time for the same purpose. Should the demand, says the Times, con- tinue at this rate, there will soon be scarcely a swift steamer left on the Clyde. The steam- boat owners never before had such a harvest, some of their steamers having been sold for nearly double their original cost, and that after a seasons use. In December the same paper relates that a new steamer, the Greyhound, hav- ing developed unexpected speed on her trial trip, Liverpool and Manchester were both after her within three days, and she finally went to Liverpool, having realized a high price. But her speed only brought ruin to her new owners. She was captured by the United States steamer Goanecticut, and sold with her cargo for about half a million of dollars. The capture of the bark Spriagbok was one of the first that called public attention to the legal results of the blockade. This vessel, British built and owned, left London for Nas- sau in December, 1862, and was captured the following February, one hundred and fifty to two hundred miles east of Nassau. her clear- ance was legal, she was sailing between two English ports, and apparently on legitimate business. If she intended to violate the laws of the United States, it could only be subse- quent to her present voyage. But on her cap- ture a large part of her cargo was found to be contraband of ~var. There were 50,000 navy buttons, stamped C. S. N., evidently intended 106 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. for the Confederate States navy; there were 80,000 army buttons, marked for the infantry, cavalry, and artillery. Besides these were army clothing, cavnlry swords, brogans, navy hoots, etc. Brotight into New York and there presented for prize, the court decreed that the contraband articles were evidently intended for the use of the enemy. The vessel and her cargo were, therefore, confiscated and sold. During all the war Wilmington, in North Carolina, was the great dipflt of the blockade- running trade. Every effort was made by the navy to crush the business that centred here; but it was found impossible. A curious in- stance of this was seen on the day of the pow- der explosion off Fort Fisher. On the 23d of December, 1864, one of the largest fleets, if not the largest, ever animated by one purpose, on this side the Atlantic, the American Armada of the nineteenth century, stood in toward the fort, bound for its capture or destruction. There were about fifty men-of-war and seventy- five transports, and among them was the gun- boat Louisiana, stored with two hundred and fifteen tons of powder, every barrel with its head out and its fuse in. Ho~v to bring this vessel, with its fiery cargo, safely nuder the walls of the fort, without having it blown up in advance by the guns of the fort, was the ques- tion of the day. This, says Admiral Porter, Commander Rhind was enabled to do, owing to a blockade-runner going in right ahead of him, the fort making the blockade-runner sig- nals, which they also did to the Louisiana. Here were one hundred and twenty-five men- of-war and transports, their only object to stop smuggling, and one saucy steamer passing through them all, and being made the uncon- scious pilot of the powder-laden gun-boat that was to blow the fort out of existence. It is needless to inform our renders that the gun- boat blew up, but that the fort did not. On both sides it was acknowledged that the capture of Fort Fisher would be the turning- point of blockade-running; and to stop this was to cut off the South from the rest of the world. This fort, Admiral Porter said, was much stronger than the famous Malakoff. But, like Malakoff, it fell. Just prior to its destruction Rear-Admiral Porter wrote to the Department: Blockade-running seems almost as brisk as ever, and, I suppose, will continue so as long as it is remunerative. The new class of blockade-runners are very fast, and sometimes come in and play around our vessels; they are built entirely for speed. Within the last fifty days we have captured and destroyed five million five hundred thousand dollars worth of enemys property in blockade-runners. To submit to these losses and still run the blockade shows the immense gains the runners make and the straits the enemy are in. Truly it must have heen a profitable business to be able to lose one hundred and ten thousand dollars a day for fifty days, as the Rear-Admiral writes, and still remain lucrative. In January of the same year Rear-Admiral Lee informs the Navy Department of the destruction of the steamers Ranger and Vesta, and adds, The Department will perceive that this is the twenty-second steamer lost by the rebels and the blockade- runners attempting to violate the blockade of Wilmington within the last six mouths, an aver- age of nearly one steamer every eight days. The rapidity with which these vessels were captured or destroyed during the last part of the war attests no less the vigilance of our sailors than the boldness with which it was at- tempted to run the blockade. What a life of adventure and watchfulness that was on hoard the blockading squadron! What hopes of prize- money! what eager chases of a flying enemy! Follow the career of one of the ships of that squadron; take the Sassacus for instanceand we only select her because her name is so prom- inent in the reports before us. On the morn- iyig of the 1st of February, 1864, her crew de- scry black smoke curling up from the lonely beach at the mouth of Stump Inlet. Sailing down upon the steamer from which the smoke issued, her crew are seen busily engaged in throwing overboard her cargo, a portion of which was already scattered along the beach; for they preferred its ruin to its capture. A few guns dispersed her crew, and she was then boarded and found to be the Wild Dayrel4 but two days out from Nassau. Every attempt was made to get her off, hut in vain; and final- ly the Sassacus and her companion-steamer, the Florida, fired into her, and destroyed both vessel and cargo, the latter alone valued at $200,000. The next morning smoke is again seen rising in the distance, and soon the chase commences of a vessel whose crew speedily endeavor to lighten her by throwing over the cargo. A few 100-pound rifle shot soon stop her oceanward career, and conscious of com- ing destruction, she turns and heads for the beach. Taken possession of by the boats of the Sassacus, she proves to be the iron steam- er Nsafield, 750 tons burdenone of the last and best steamers out of the Thames. She was laden with an assorted cargo of merchan- dise, munitions of war, Enfield rifles, pig-lead, and a battery of eight Whitfield rifled guns. Finding it impossible to draw her off the beach or to save her cargo, she,too, was fired into and destroyed. Two days after, another steamer is discovered and beached. It was the steamer Dee, so far driven up on the land that she, too, was fired into and destroyed, with all her val- uable cargo. On board of her were found a number of valuable books directed to Jeff Davis. Four days later the Florida saw another steamer passing in, the side-wheeler Fannie and Jessie, commanded by a notorious blockade-run- ner, Captain Coxetta. Driving her on to the beach, a hopeless wreck, her captain drowned in his endeavor to escape, another steamer was discovered, which subsequently proved to be the Emily, with a cargo of merchandise and salt. BLOCKADE-RUNNING. 107 She was also fired and destroyed. Here in ten days five steamers were destroyed at one spot. The cargoes were all consumed in the same flames that burned the vessels. The Fannie and Jessie, the Emily, and the Nutjield were new vessels, and their destruction probably ruined their owners. The Wild Dayrell had made one successful voyage, which more than pnid her cost. The Dee was an old offender. Whenever the blockade-runner cotild not escape, every effort was made to destroy her, generally by wrecking her on the nearest beach. The London Times, all ~vhose sympathies were with the South during the rebellion, and who regarded it as the worst of all fates to fall into the bands of the United States government, says: The risk to the commander is fearful, as Federal cruisers are most dangerous to en- counter. The instructions to commanders of blockade-runners are to beach their ships rath- er than let them be captured by the Federals. When there is no chance for the escape of the ship at night, the crew scuttle her and escape, if possible, in the boats; before the Federals can board the scuttled ship she is very often water-logged and sunk. The Times says that the pay to the commander is very high, propor- tionate to the risk be runs and the profits he is expected to make. A round trip from Ber- muda or Nassau pays the captain 800 ($4000), besides the privilege of purchasing-twelve bales of cotton for 15 a bale, worth 75 at Liver- pool. Two trips can he made each moon from Nassau, one from Bermuda; so that for his fortnights successful voyage from Nassau the captain realizes $7600! The Times sub- sequently prints a letter from the captain of the steamer Banshee, who succeeded in making his escape, but at the expense of his deck load: We left Wilmington September 21; at 5.30 on the 22d discovered a large steamer about two miles off. This fellow gave us a tremen- dons chase. At first, when the water was smooth, we gained on him; it then came on to blow, and he got his sails to bear, and came up with us. I thought I saw New York in prospective. We then threw over part of our deck load, and went away from him. The. wind increased almost to a gale, and he came up again. We then put her head to the sea, and threw the remainder of the deck load off, which lightened her, and we gaiAed steadily, and lost him at 7.30 r.~t., after a chase of four- teen hours; and right glad I was to see him stop. There never was such a chase except the Nashville by the Keystone State, and we should most surely have been taken if we had not lightened her. The chase of such a blockade-runner as this was always a scene of intense excitement to every person on board; pride, patriotism, and pocket were all appealed to. These steamers were richly laden, and their capture put half the value of vessel and cargo into the pockets of the captors. England was very unpopular with the marine, and England had built and manned every one of these illegal traders; their capture touched the purses of English mer- chants. They were built expressly for speed; and to capture them it was first necessary to overhaul them by superior speed. All these vessels were so built as to deceive; they were very long, low in the water, quite narrow, and painted a dull, neutral color, so as not to catch the eye of the watching sailor. They burned a coal that emitted no smoke. As if conscious of their illegal trrand, they tried to hide them- selves and their work in the obscurity of dark- ness. To see, chase, overhaul, and capture them, thus benefiting at once the country and their own pockets, was the eager desire of ev- ery American sailor. And in the four years of the blockade one thousand six hundred cap- tures, of every description, from the empty boat from which the oars had been lost to the mug- nificent steamer but just launched on her first voyage, attest the skill, the energy, and the watchfulness of our brave marine. When the capture was made the vessel was sent, under the charge of a prize crew, to some neighboring port, generally Key West, Phila- delphia, New York, or Boston. Soon after the proceedings commenced it was found that the expenses of the trial were very different at the several ports. Congressional investigation de- veloped the fact that at Boston costs amount- ed to 5.83 pe~ cent., at Philadelphia to 14.09 per cent., and at New York to 15.39 per cent. so that it cost three times as much to procure justice and condemnation at New York an at Boston. The great object of the lauyers em- ployed by the English owners was so to delay the sale that the expenses should be so large that neither the government nor the captors should realize any money out of it; their ill wind should blow no good to any one else. The Louisa Ayres was brought into New York laden with fish, and within twenty-four hours Mr. Smith, the United States District - Attorney, moved for an order of sale, on the ground that the fish would not keep. The counsel for the late owners came into court with a long array of affidavits from parties who swore that the fish were not perishing, but would keep any rea- sonable time; the motion for an immediate sale was therefore denied. Soon after the Brooklyn Board of Health notified the Prize Commissioners that, if the fish were not re- moved, they would have them cleared out as a nuisance. The cargo was thereupon ordered to be sold, hut did not pay expenses, only realizing $105, when the invoice price was $5000. When the Stettin was captured and brought into port, her old crew quietly flooded the cargo with salt- water to its destruction. The hiawatha was sent to New York, where the United States Marshal permitted one of its owners, named Potts, to keep charge of it, As soon as it was in his hands Potts shipped to Liverpool 250 of its packages of tobacco, valued at $25,000. Just before the goods were to be sold under a decree of condemnation the tobacco was discovered to 108 HARPERS NEW MONThLY MAGAZINE. be missing. The sale was therefore adjourn- ed; and before it finally took place the remain- ing articles had so risen in value as to more than replace the twenty-five thousand dollars worth of abstracted tobacco. The laws that regulate the condemnation of prizes provide that all who joiti in the capture shall share in the proceeds; and that all shall be considered as aiding in the capture who are within signal distance. The captor generally gets half the avails of the property sold, both of ship and cargogovernment the other half. The proceeds, after payment of expenses, are divided among the captors in proportion to their pay and rank. The commanding officer of the squadron gets one-twentieth, or five per cent.; the fleet captain receives one-hundredth, or one per cent. ; but if the capture is made by a single vessel, her commander gets one-tenth. Xl,Then the Hope was captured by the little tug the Eoius, off Wilmington, October 22, 1864, the acting-master of the latter won $13,164 85 for his days work. The assistant-engiacer re- ceived from that single prize $6657, or more than four years pay. The seamen obtained over a thousand dollars apiece; while the very cabin-boy, whose pay was less than two dollars and a half a week, won $532 60 for his share. But the lucky Eoles also assisted, nine days later, in capturing the steamer Lady Sterling; and the Lady Sterling and her cargo sold for $509,354 64. Each of the acting-ensigns of the Ealus received $9589 67 from the Sterling, making about twenty-three thousand dollars prize-money for their ten days work. The seamen each received two thousand in addition to the thousand they had pocketed nine days before from the Hope. It was a fortunate cap- ture, that of the Lady Sterling, and shows how uncertain it is whether the smuggler shall make a fortune for its owners or its captors. When she came down the river, soon after dusk, she was happily noticed by one of the blockading squadron that was not near enough to stop her, but that sent up signal rockets to warn the rest of the fleet that a blockade-runner was going out. The Calypso and the Eolus saw these rockets and sailed in; and as the Sterling came sweeping by under as full a head of steam as the best of coal and oil could produce, the Calypso poured a full broadside into her, every shot striking and setting her on fire. But t.he Lady swept on. The vessel and her cargo were worth eight hundred thousand dollars, and her captain could not voluntarily yield that value to the Yankees. For three hours the Sterling sailed southward along the shore, followed by the Calypso and the Eolus a little farther off from land, but near enough for the six glasses on board the Galypso to scan every movement on board the burning steamer. After a chase of about thirty-five miles, varied by a few guns at long bowls, the Lady Sterling turned round, hoping to escape by doubling on her tracks. But the movement only brought her into the jaws of the Ealus. A broadside was once more poured in as she turned; and finding it impos- sible to escape, she surrendered. The fire had then obtained almost complete possession of the cargo; but by throwing over the 180 bales of burning cotton the vessel was brought into port and court, and, damaged as she was, sold for over half a million of dollars. When the Magnolia, on the last day of July, 1862, captured the Memphis, with her cargo of cotton and resin, she was so fortunate that no other vessel was in sight. No complaint was made with the Ancient Mariner that they were Alone, aloneall, all alone Alone on a wide, wide sea. For there was no other vessel to divide the more than half a million of dollars that that hour fell into their clutches. The lieutenant of the Magnolia received $38,318 55 for his single share of that days work. Each ordinary seaman won over seventeen hundred dollars. During the war one thousand six hundred captures were made. Of these less than eight hundred have been condemned and their pro- ceeds paid over. Yet these captures realized at auction more than twenty-five millions of dol- lars. As much property was destroyed as was captured; so that it is safe to say that the loss of the blockade-runners was over fifty millions of dollars. The success of the blockade on the part of government was one of the great facts of the late war. It was the largest block- ade ever attempted, and it was thorough. In a semi-official communication to Lord Russell, Mr. Mason called the attention of the Premier to the continued violation of the blockade by the runners. Lord Russell replied by naming to the representative of the Confederate pow- ers the different prices that prevailed on the two sides of the blockading fleet. At Charles- ton, cotton was in abundance at eight and ten cents a pound, and tens of millions of pounds waiting to be sold; at Nassau, only eight-and- forty hours away, it was worth over a dollar, and the manufacturing world was hungry for it. The benefit of this smuggling to the South- era cause ~vas incalculable. The business it carried into the South, the life and activity it brought, th~news it told and carried away, the sympathy it communicated, the money it left behind, all these were sinews of war, without which that war must have ceased from twelve to twenty-four months earlier than it did. The intercourse furnished by the blockade-runners was the connecting link between the Southern Confederacy and the outer world; substantial evidence of the sympathy of other and older nations. It was of as much moral value as material; it cheered and encouraged the South- ern heart, that would otherwise have felt ostra- cized from the family of nations. WHAT DID MISS DARRINGTON SEE? 1q9 WHAT DID MISS DARRINGTON SEE? IT was not so very long ago, for it was only about a year before the outbreak of the great rebellion, that Colonel Sibthorpe, living at Catalpa Grove, County, Kentucky, wrote to Mr. Allen, a merchant in Boston, with whom be had large dealings, to procure for him a governess. The correspondent was requested to look out for a young person capable of fin- ishing the education of tbe colonels two mo- therless daughters, aged respectively eighteen and sixteen, and of preparing his younger son for admission to a Southern college. Mr. Allen was at first not a little embarrassed by a commission so entirely out of the ordinary course of business; but as he had a strong de- sire to oblige his Kentucky friend and custom- er, he at once set about making inquiries for a suitable person to fill the order. Whether his search was attended with much or little dif- ficulty I am unable to say; I only know that it resulted in the engagement, at a liberal salary, of Miss Elizabeth Darrington, from whom I have derived the chief incidents of the story I am about to relate, and who has reluctantly consented to my making them public. Perhaps you have seen Miss Darrington? If so, I dare be sworn that you remember her more vividly than many a handsomer woman. At the time I speak of she was about twenty-four, a small figure, slight now, but promising full- ness as time should go on; a face neither beau- tiful nor plain in feature, but showing intellect and esprit, and a manner unmistakably that of a gentlewoman. (It is a word little used now, but it expresses what I mean far more accu- rately than the flippant term lady.) Sprung from one pf the oldest and best families in Massachusettsone which had produced gov- ernors and legislators in the early colonial time, and in nearly every generation since some man of shining markshe had not only i?iherited a fair share of the family talent, but she had breathed an atmosphere of intellect and culture from her infancy. She had also been early forced by circumstances into a position of self- reliance, and had learned to think and act in- dependently. The result was a character not so easily summed up as that of a woman of the model sort, made up after the ideal of news- paper homilists, and the reverend gentlemen who lecture on the Woman Question. Such as these would have found something of pagan- ism in the very virtues of Miss Darrington, with- out, perhaps, perceiving that there was a touch of nobility even in her faults. Proud, certain- lyevery thing about her, from the curve of her well-cut lip to the high-arched instep of a rather small foot, attested to that fact. Cold? I am not so sure. Her best friends said so; and at least the glance of her eye was cool and steady. Yet she had a keen physical organiza- tion, and enjoyed life with a zest unknown to duller and narrower natures. In short, she was one of those women, peculiarly the product of our later civilization, in whom the brain is up- permost, feeling in abeyance, and gifted with a power of self-rule which, if they do suffer, ena- bles them to hide it as skillfully as a Mohican. She liked men, but they seldom got farther with her than the point of good-comradeship. Very young men, by-the-way, were inclined to fight a little shy of her; but she liked shrewd elderly ones, and these were always her ad- mirers. 11cr manner, too, was not the modest violet manner of the model woman; there was just a touch of conscious power in ita fine, well-bred self-assertion, which stood her in good stead in her peculiar position at Catalpa Grove, and enabled her to keep the young ladies of the house very much in order. In those days North- ern governesses of the meek sort used often to fare a little dismally among those high-spirited and not over-cultivated Southern girls. But one glance into the level gray eyes of Miss Darrington would have convinced a duller than the Sibthorpes that this was a woman on whom it would be dangerous to play off any airs of superiority. They had a wholesome fear of her at the end of the first hour, but they cordially liked her by the end of the first week, and their respect and liking never diminished while she remained with them. The truth is, real New England blue blood is the very bluest in America, and the pride it engenders is more than a match for the haughtiest P. F. V.a fact which our Southern friends did not know so well before the war as they do now, for the reason that in their isolated plantation life they were seldom brought in contact with the real thing. They had their esthoate of the Northern spirit from second and third rate spec- imens. The Sibthorpes were fine girls, how- ever, and when they found out the stuff the gov- erness had in her they were ready enough to make Catalpa Grove a pleasant abode for her, and soon its gayeties were incomplete without her. The grove was in a l)opulous county, and within easyvisiting distance of the city of L-. There was always open house, and a very de- lightful house at that. The colonel was a good specimen of the Kentucky gentleman, frank, hearty, hospitable, and well-bred, until you touched his prejudices. He greatly admired Miss Darrington, and, indeed, showed some dis- position to give his feelings practical expression, but was skillfully checked by the lady before he had committed himself. It did not in the least suit her book to be made love to by her host. She had undertaken a profitable years task, and she wanted the salary. She did not choose either to resign the chance of earning it or to be made uncomfortable by the presence in the house of a rejected suitor. You think I am describing a hard and selfish woman. What do you think she was down there governessing for, that finely trained, thor- ough-bred creature, among those free-and-easy, not over-intellectual Kentuckians? She was

Emma B. Cobb Cobb, Emma B. What Did Miss Darrington See? 109-117

WHAT DID MISS DARRINGTON SEE? 1q9 WHAT DID MISS DARRINGTON SEE? IT was not so very long ago, for it was only about a year before the outbreak of the great rebellion, that Colonel Sibthorpe, living at Catalpa Grove, County, Kentucky, wrote to Mr. Allen, a merchant in Boston, with whom be had large dealings, to procure for him a governess. The correspondent was requested to look out for a young person capable of fin- ishing the education of tbe colonels two mo- therless daughters, aged respectively eighteen and sixteen, and of preparing his younger son for admission to a Southern college. Mr. Allen was at first not a little embarrassed by a commission so entirely out of the ordinary course of business; but as he had a strong de- sire to oblige his Kentucky friend and custom- er, he at once set about making inquiries for a suitable person to fill the order. Whether his search was attended with much or little dif- ficulty I am unable to say; I only know that it resulted in the engagement, at a liberal salary, of Miss Elizabeth Darrington, from whom I have derived the chief incidents of the story I am about to relate, and who has reluctantly consented to my making them public. Perhaps you have seen Miss Darrington? If so, I dare be sworn that you remember her more vividly than many a handsomer woman. At the time I speak of she was about twenty-four, a small figure, slight now, but promising full- ness as time should go on; a face neither beau- tiful nor plain in feature, but showing intellect and esprit, and a manner unmistakably that of a gentlewoman. (It is a word little used now, but it expresses what I mean far more accu- rately than the flippant term lady.) Sprung from one pf the oldest and best families in Massachusettsone which had produced gov- ernors and legislators in the early colonial time, and in nearly every generation since some man of shining markshe had not only i?iherited a fair share of the family talent, but she had breathed an atmosphere of intellect and culture from her infancy. She had also been early forced by circumstances into a position of self- reliance, and had learned to think and act in- dependently. The result was a character not so easily summed up as that of a woman of the model sort, made up after the ideal of news- paper homilists, and the reverend gentlemen who lecture on the Woman Question. Such as these would have found something of pagan- ism in the very virtues of Miss Darrington, with- out, perhaps, perceiving that there was a touch of nobility even in her faults. Proud, certain- lyevery thing about her, from the curve of her well-cut lip to the high-arched instep of a rather small foot, attested to that fact. Cold? I am not so sure. Her best friends said so; and at least the glance of her eye was cool and steady. Yet she had a keen physical organiza- tion, and enjoyed life with a zest unknown to duller and narrower natures. In short, she was one of those women, peculiarly the product of our later civilization, in whom the brain is up- permost, feeling in abeyance, and gifted with a power of self-rule which, if they do suffer, ena- bles them to hide it as skillfully as a Mohican. She liked men, but they seldom got farther with her than the point of good-comradeship. Very young men, by-the-way, were inclined to fight a little shy of her; but she liked shrewd elderly ones, and these were always her ad- mirers. 11cr manner, too, was not the modest violet manner of the model woman; there was just a touch of conscious power in ita fine, well-bred self-assertion, which stood her in good stead in her peculiar position at Catalpa Grove, and enabled her to keep the young ladies of the house very much in order. In those days North- ern governesses of the meek sort used often to fare a little dismally among those high-spirited and not over-cultivated Southern girls. But one glance into the level gray eyes of Miss Darrington would have convinced a duller than the Sibthorpes that this was a woman on whom it would be dangerous to play off any airs of superiority. They had a wholesome fear of her at the end of the first hour, but they cordially liked her by the end of the first week, and their respect and liking never diminished while she remained with them. The truth is, real New England blue blood is the very bluest in America, and the pride it engenders is more than a match for the haughtiest P. F. V.a fact which our Southern friends did not know so well before the war as they do now, for the reason that in their isolated plantation life they were seldom brought in contact with the real thing. They had their esthoate of the Northern spirit from second and third rate spec- imens. The Sibthorpes were fine girls, how- ever, and when they found out the stuff the gov- erness had in her they were ready enough to make Catalpa Grove a pleasant abode for her, and soon its gayeties were incomplete without her. The grove was in a l)opulous county, and within easyvisiting distance of the city of L-. There was always open house, and a very de- lightful house at that. The colonel was a good specimen of the Kentucky gentleman, frank, hearty, hospitable, and well-bred, until you touched his prejudices. He greatly admired Miss Darrington, and, indeed, showed some dis- position to give his feelings practical expression, but was skillfully checked by the lady before he had committed himself. It did not in the least suit her book to be made love to by her host. She had undertaken a profitable years task, and she wanted the salary. She did not choose either to resign the chance of earning it or to be made uncomfortable by the presence in the house of a rejected suitor. You think I am describing a hard and selfish woman. What do you think she was down there governessing for, that finely trained, thor- ough-bred creature, among those free-and-easy, not over-intellectual Kentuckians? She was 110 hARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the eldest of four children. Her father was dead, and her mother a delicate, fine lady, as lovely and as helpless as a baby or a flower. Elizabeth was the support of the family. She kept the children at school, and wrote every week to her mother a long letter, full of fun and nonsense and merry rattle, to make that dear woman believe she had not a care in the world. But, trust me, she had plenty. Miss Darringtoa had been about six months at the grove when, one morning in March, the household was thrown into a little cheerful com- motion by a letter from Tom Sibthorpe, the colonels eldest son, announcing his return home. He wrote to say that he should bring with him a friend, a young Cuban, with whom he had been traveling, and whomfor I am compelled to give him a fictitious nameI shall call Raphael Aldama. The expected advent of this stranger caused not a little excitement to the young ladies of the grove. He was of Spanish birth, but his family had lived for years in havana, and he had formerly been at school with Torn Sibthorpe in New Orleans. The girls had never seen him; but they told Miss Darrington the most remarkable stories about him, of his wonderful personal beauty, his as- tonishing strength, his terrible temper and reckless daring, his duels and scrapes. He was very rich, very haughty, very magnificent. They were wild to see him, but rather inclined to be afraid of him. Tie was said to be as ir- resistible with women as he was dangerous with men. Miss Darrington did not find their pic- ture of the expected guest particularly attract- ive. She laughed to herself, mentally decided that the romantic Cuban was probably a very ordinary young savage, and thought no more about him. The travelers reached Catalpa Grove on the day expected. It was in the afternoon that they arrived; and his imperial highness, Signor Raphael, was pleased to retire immediately to bed, where he spent the night and the whole of the next day. All day long the two Sibthorpe girls were in a little fever of excitement, and were not above showing it. Alice could not practice her music lesson, and Rosalie had more trouble than usual with French verbs. They laid out their prettiest toilets for the evening, and teased Tom Sibthorpe with all sorts of ques- tions about his friend. Miss Darrington list- ened, a little eanuy~e, checked a satirical smile, and yawned behind her fan. When they had fluttered away she arrayed herself in the plain white dress which was her ordinary evening wear, with no ornament, except some scarlet blossoms of the Japan quince in her dark braids, and went down to play galops and waltzes for the others to dance. The evening was well-nigh spent, her fingers were getting tired, and she was playing half mechanically, her thoughts carried far away, when Alice Sibthorpe came toward her, leaning on the arm of a gentleman, and begged to pre- sent the Signor Aldama, who desired the pleas- ure of her acquaintance. She looked up, indif- ferently, and met the glance of an eye before whose fiery and intolerable splendor her own for an instant fellfor an instant only. She was quite too l)racticed a woman of the world to lose her self-possession, though for a moment compelled to acknowledge the force of a mag- netism more powerful than her own. A voice peculiarly soft and melodious addressed her, and the sweet, measured tones in which she re- plied betrayed no disturbance. Alice took her place at the piano, and she moved to a sofa, the stranger placing himself at her side; and she found herself studying curiously the face before her. It was a very handsome face. She acknowl- edged that instantly. A white forehead, smooth as a boys, over which the black hair clustered in heavy rings; an arched nose, the wide deli- cate nostril of which had a quiver of pride in it, like what one sees in fiery young horses; lips full yet firm, a strange sweetness in their smile, yet a fierceness in their passionate curve which suggested possibilities of cruelty. The eye was large and looked like black velvet, with the flash of a diamond in its centre. With all this a figure strong yet slender, a springing, cat-like tread, and a manner full of lazy grace, yet marred by something of haughty indifference. Miss Darrington looked now steadily into the eyes whose bold, strong glance had at first beaten down her own, and recognized the na- ture of the soul that looked out from them. It is a case for Van Amburgh, she said to herself, or Girard, the lion-tamer. What jungle can have reared a wild animal like this? But the lo~v musical voice in which he address- ed her did not accord with this harsh impres- sion, and his manner at the moment was almost reverent in its gentle respect. From that evening an intimacl singularly close and confidential existed between these two. I say existed, for it was a thing which had no growth; it seemed to spring up, full- statured, in na hour. But whether it were of the nature of love or friendship the lookers- on were puzzled to decide. But at least, he seemed never willingly absent from her corn- pany, and she had an evident pleasure in hav- ing him near her. Yet she certainly made no effort to attract him. So much was admitted, even by the two Sibthorpe girls, who, having, perhaps, anticipated an admirer in their broth- er s friend, may have felt a twinge of resent- ment at seeing him immediately carried off by the governess. But they were not ill-natured, and they had no lack of admirers; so they soon accepted the situation, wondering a little, too, for it was not vanity i~ them to think that, in point of beauty as well as youth, they had the advantage. But Raphael had known plenty of beautiful womenhad enjoyed to the full the incense of their admirationwhile a woman with brains was a new revelation to him. The spell of intellect and culture he found irresist- ible. This was the more strange as he was WHAT DID MISS DARRINGTON SEE? 111 the last man whom a superficial judgment would have supposed likely to be attracted by such qualities. He had very little culture himseli little education, indeed, in the ordinary sense of the word. But he had seen a great deal of ife in his five-and-twenty yearsa life of vivid impressions and keen emotions. He had al- ways been his own master, knowing from boy- hood no law but his own will. The result was a character fixed in its mould, yet giving the impression of immaturity. Though really older than Miss Darrington, he seemed to her like a grown-up child. His nature showed a tinge of barbarism, a certain antique simplicity, which seemed to belong to a past age. She could not fail to see that intellectually she was vastly his superior; and it is good evidence of the natural nobility of the mans nature that he, too, recognized that fact without resenting it. He had worshiped passionately at many a lovely shrine, but never quite free from the haughty feeling that his homage honored her on whom it lighted. Now, for the first time in his life, his boldness had become timidity, his audacity respect. The story of Undine may repeat itself in more forms than one. The soul in this half-savage breast sprang into conscious life with the first pure, unselfish love which had ever dwelt there. Unselfish, for he knew from the very first that it was hopeless. She was honest with him all through. She let him see that truly as she liked him, frankly as she ad- mired him, she had only friendship to give him. Not that she told him so in wordsa woman is a blunderer to whom such words are necessary but he did not fail to perceive the truth. Yet it must be confessed that she found in his companionship a wonderful charm, the se- cret of which she could never fully analyze. It might lie partly in his remarkable beauty always a spell to any ~von~anor the intense personal magnetism by which he affected all who came near him. It might be the very con- trast between her own complex but balanced nature and this romantic and ardent, though untutored soul. Then, too, he adored her, and what woman ever lived who did not love to be worshiped? His honest affection must have been inexpressibly soothing to her often-wearied spirit. I think she might even have loved him but for the recollection ofbut that is her se- cret, and has nothing to do with my story. So, though on the frankest terms of inti- macy, they never talked of love. Without sur- rounding herself with any apparent defenses, she compelled him to a complete reserve in that direction. A coquette might have refused to listen to him; she assumed that he had nothing to say, and so persistently ignored the possibil- ity of any thing else that he could not escape the position she assigned him. Of course it was not to be expected that this sudden and close intimacy could escape coin- meat in the little circle at the Grove. But after the first dash of surprise they treated the matter with indifference, good-naturedly, will- lag that the parties should please theixtselves. Only Tom Sibthorpe, gifted with a somewhat more acute observation~ than the rest, watched the pair with a puzzled interest. By Jove ! he said to his sister Alice, I did not think the woman had lived who could so tame the tiger in Raphael Aldama. Can you tell me the secret of her power? It is not coquetry; she never throws out a lure; yet the very soul of the man is on its knees beforeher. It can not be beauty; she is not so pretty as you, or Rose; though in the real air de grande dame she beats you both out of the fieldthat little thing, not over five feet high! I dont know but it is in her pride, after alL For the first time in his life Raphael has found some one prouder than he is. Do you believe she will marry him ? I should think so, certainly, replied Alice, rather surprised at the doubt. Possibly you are right. Women should know women. But I am not sure that she is one to say, all for love, and a world well lost. How can you be so censorious, Tom ? cried Alice, indignantly. Miss Darrington is no more cold-hearted than you are. Besides, if it is a question of worldly advantage, she has every thing to gain from such a marriage. You think so, my dear, but she knows bet- ter. To her the losses might outweigh the gains. What would she lose? The whole world in which she has hitherto lived and moved and had her being. Dont you see how opposite they are in character, in education, in ideas of life? She has been rear-. ed in the stimulating mental atmosphere of the North, and is, to say truth, a very flue specimen of its culture; has grown up in sympathy with the living forces of thought which move the modern world.. He is like the child of some past civilization, who does not even know him- self out of harmony with this thinking nine- teenth century. There can be no spiritual kin- ship between the two. If she were to marry him she would lose the freedom she prizes be- yond every thing, and gain, not a mate, but merely an adorer. And such an adorer! A woman might as well trust herself to a ty- phoon. Dont you think his love for her would last ? How can I tell? lie has loved a hundred times before; though, to spe k the truth, I never saw him in such earnest as now. But if he did not weary, she would. His passion is too ex~qeaate; it would bore her in a little while. You seem to think she does not care for him. Nay; that is where I am wholly at sea. She is not one to wear her heart on her sleeve for such daws as we to l)eck at. But, after all, what does it matter? These things are always unequal. Ily a toujours lan qui boise, et lautre qui tend le jouc. You are a horrid old cynic, Tom. 112 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ~es, dear; and a stupid one at that; so let us talk of something else. So the warm spring days flew swiftly hy, and the old house rang with the gayety of that care- less Southern life; and these two floated on with the stream, enjoying the present, bu~ knowing well that their pleasure could not last. At least she knew this. She understood that there could he no permanent tie hetween the~n. They had drifted together from oppo- site poles; they would soon drift apart again, and that would he the end. But it was not easy to keep him to this view. Why talk of the future at all ? he said, impatiently. Let me at least dream that I have you forever. These hours are so sweet I sip them slowly, like drops of some pre- cious wine. I even fancy sometimes that the days go lingeringly, as if the very moments felt the joy they hold, and were lotli to depart from ns. We are hut children playing in the sun; let us play that we are loversand love, you know, is eternal. Oh, hut that is too idle. Yes; I will have it so, he said, evidently feeling that he was securing an advantage. You insist that this companionship of ours is not any part of our real lives. It is a little dream we are dreaming together a hrief drama which we enact. In such a fictitious world it is no matter what ,-6les we take for our own. I choose the part of your lover. You can listen to my vows, for it is only play, you know. She laughed, hut made no reply. She was unwilling, hy objecting, to seem to attach any importance to this new freak. He never re- linquished the ground her silence conceded; yet he seemed always to feel that this advant- age was a stolen one, and was careful not to press it too far. Though after that he would often hold toward her the language of a lover, he was strangely gentle for one so naturally fierce and wild, and he played with this whim in a half sad, half tender way, which some- times moved her more than she chose to show. Raphael was passionately fond of music, and sang well in a wild, lawless way of his own, though in that, as in every thing else, quite guiltless of scientific method. He often chose to he present when Miss Darrington was giv- ing her morning lesson to the young ladies; and, as what he chose to do it was rather dif- ficult to prevent, hoth teacher and pupils soon learned to go on without paying any attention to him. One memorable morning in May the two girls had finished their lesson and left the room. Raphael, who had heen lying on a sofa by the window, with a newspaper over his face, as if asleep, flung it away as they closed the door. Now that those chatterers are gone, sing to me, Isabel, he said. It was one of his caprices to substitute for her stately English name of Elizabeth, whose consonants plagued his southern tongue, the softer Spanish form which is its equivalent. What will you have ? she asked, reseat- ing herself. Are you in a soher mood, or will something gay and sparkling suit you hetter ? Any thing you like will please me. That is a very flattering frame of mind in which to find ones audience. As a reward you shall hear this choice little hit from Ten- nysons Maud, which has just heen set to music. Very well; I have not an idea who Ten- nyson is, and never heard of his Maud; but if you like it I shalL I only want to hear your voice. What pretty things you say this morning! But I assure you that my grum tones do no justice to it. You should hear Alice. Alice screams like a macaw. That is not quite complimentary to my best pupil. But now, barbarian, be silent, and listen. The song was the one, so familiar now, be- ginning, There has fallen a splendid tear. She sang it in a way of her own, rolling out the words at the top, or rather bottom, of her voice, trying to imitate the deep, passionate tones of Mauds lover, as he stands, half stifled with impatience, listening in the hush of the summer night for the footfall that he loves: There has fallen a splendid tear From the passion-flower at the gate. She is coming, my dove, my dear; She is coming, my life, my fate. The red rose cries, She is near, she is near; And the white rose weeps, She is late; The larkspur listens, I hear, I hear; And the lily whispers, I wait. She is coming, my own, my sweet; Were it ever so airy a tread, My heart would hear her and heat, Were it earth in an earthy hed; My dust would hear her and heat, Had I lain for a century dead; Would start and tremhle under her feet, And blossom in purple and red. During the singing of the first stanza Raphael kept his position on the sofa, but the second had not proceeded far when, with a smothered ex- clamation, he started upright, and sat leaning eagerly forward, listening with a flushed and working face. At the close lie sprang to his feet, and came toward her, his eyes burning like coals of fire. Jese Maria! Why do you sing like that to me? The passion in his tones made her tremhle, but she answered as calmly as possible: I had no special reason. I thought the song a pretty piece of hyperbole, which would please you. It is not hyperbole; it is truth, he said, softly, a sudden paleness replacing the flush on his face. He stood close behind her, and lean- ed over to look at the sheet from which she had been singing. His fingers rested for a moment with a light touch upon her haira WHAT ])ID MISS DARRINGTON SEE? 113 totich inexpressibly soft and caressingas he only rare pleasures have. To you it i~ like the repeated: rest of your life, and so its memory will fade My dust would hear her and beat, the sooner. Had I lain for a century dead; So you doubt alike my truth and con- Would start and tremble under her feet~ stancy ? And blossom in purple and red. Doubt your. truth? Ah, no! But for con- Why, yes, he went on, dreamily, surely the stancywhat is it? We are none of us con- earth does not furnish a grave so deep that the stantGod be thanked, who gives us the power sound of her little foot above it would not scud to change. How could we live if we had not a thrill through his heart. thatif every sorro~v held its keenness forev~r? Raphael, I think you rave. Do I cause you sorrow, Isabel ? Indeed no, he said, smiling softly. Can Only when I see you unhappy. Did you not you see that if I were really your lover, as not say that we were children playing in the we only play I am, neither death nor the grave sun? Then what have we to do with care? could divide tue from you? In life, distance Let us play the play out merrily, for the end might divide us. Your own coldness, the cruel of it is near. coavenances of the world in which you live, She staid for no reply, but smiling on him might build themselves like a wall between us; kindly, though ~vith swimming eyes, she rose bitt were this soul unchained by death I should and left the room. be free to seek you, and the universe of God is A week later Raphael went. Imperative not wide enough to divide me from her I love. business compelled Tom Sihthorpes departure, Not highest heaven nor deepest hell could keep and his friend had no pretext for lingering lop- me from my darling. ger. In the interval he bore himself toward You would not appear to her in the fash- Miss Darrington with a fair degree of the cool- ion of the spectre bridegroom, in the ballad of ness she had been teaching him, but whether Leonora we read the otheff day? Fe~v la- froth pride or acquired indifference she could dies would like that. not tell. The day. before his departure he or- She spok~ lightly, for the scene was becom- dered his horse immediately after breakfast, and ing too painful, and she felt that she must end rode to L. She noticed, as he passed the it at any cost. But her effort failed, lie only window,that he had exchanged the white linen smileda grave, patient smile, strangely unlike suit which, ii~ common with other gentlemen at himself, she thoughtas he answered: that season, he wore constantly, for a complete No, surely. . Do you think I would fright- black dress. en her, or harm one hair of her little head? He was gone nearly all day, only making his Not to terrify, but to bless, would I seek her. appearance after dinner was over, and the whole And she would know my soul at last, and read family assembled in the drawing-room. He had all its love for hera love she was too blind to resumed his usual garb, and seemed in very gay believe in here. . spirits. Several guests were present, and be Tears sprang to her steadfast eyes. Dear made himself brilliantly agreeable to them, Raphael, she said, I will not ~vrong you by flirted with Rose Sibthorpe, and paid any num- jesting any more. I do know your generous her of compliments to Alice on her singing. regard for me, and I am grateful for it. But Miss Darrington played superbly, but he. did if I were to listen to you it would be the bane not approach her. When she had finished, of both. We are not suited to each other. however, and walked away from the others into We belong to two different worlds. The air the shelter of a window, he soon followed. of yours would scorch and blast rae, as mine Have you heard, he said, that I go to- would chill and destroy you. morrow You do not care for me, then? So Tom has been telling me. Indeed I do care. I was cold and lonely You speak very quietly. Do you under- here, away from all I love; you came, and I stand that we part finallythat we shall never was warmed with the sun of the tropics. It is meet again ?~ you who give the charm to these sweet spring . Yes, I know. .days which are passing so swiftly. But When The words were almost inaudible, for pain they are gone that will be the end. You will choked her voice. He went on: leave us, and though you will think of me kind.- Well, then, since it is sosince we shall ly for a while, the world of excitement and ad- nevei be nay thing to each. other any more, will venture will quickly renew its charm for you, you not give me something which shall at times and you will thank me then that I have left you remind me of you? Otherwise I might forget unfettered. . you, you know. And you? he asked, in a tone of sonic What shall it be ?~ she asked, faintly. The bitterness.. You will forget me, doubtless ? smile on his lips was almost more than she I shall . never forget you, she answered, could bear. sadly. I shall remember you always as the Any thing which you have worn, so it will kindest, the most generous of friends. My life seem a part of you. is one of labor and care; and this brief holiday Wear this, then, drawing from her fiuger we have spent together has the charm which a little plain gold ring. Yox.. XLII.No. 24T.8 114 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. There was a flash like triumph in his eyes as he received it, and touched it to his lips before placing it upon his own finger. Now, he said, still, speaking in the same slow tone, as if he were controlling it by an ef- fort now, will you look at whet I have here ? He took a small l)arcel from the breast of his coat and placed it in her hand. She removed the wrapper, an(l there appeared a common jewelLease of purple morocco, which, on being opened, revealed, reposing on its velvet bed, a trinket of singular and beautiful workmanship. It was a large drop, or globe, of exquisitely cut crystal, inclosed in a fine net-work of gold. Do you like it ? he asked, as she did not speak. Who would not? It looks like a soap- bubble tangled in a golden net, or a great dew- drop bonnd round with threads of Titanias hair. Surely you did not find such a rare and curious thing at L ? No; I carried it there to-day. For what purpose I am not sure that Idare to tell you. It is an heir-loom in our family, and has come down to me through many generations. There is a tradition among us that it is a talisman, and brings good fortune to her who we~irs it. Will yoe wear it in memory of the last Alda- ma? Miss Darrington hesitated. Ong1~t yon to part with a thing of such peculiar value ? He answered with a strange smile: I do not part with it. I only make of it a link be- tween myself and you. While you wear it you can not wholly forget me. If you wish to do so, reject it. She answered by fastening it to her watch- chain. Again that triumphant flash broke front his eyes. Sbme one approached the window. Their t~te-& -t~te must come to an end. He leaned toward her and whispered hastily: Some day, when you look at it, you will learn how high my presumption has soared. Bat the link between us is riveted now. You can never undo it. The next moment he had moved away, and was laughing gayly with a group of ladies. That night, in her own room, as Miss Dar- rington was laying aside her watch, she once more examined curiously the crystal drop. As she turned it over and over her fingers must have touched a small spring concealed in the gold net-work, for the globe parted in the mid- dle, and the sides falling open, revealed a small but perfect photograph likeness of Raphael him- self. This, then, was the errand which had taken him to L that day; this was the piece of presumption which he had hesitated to confess to her. lie had probably believed that she would not discover it till after he was gone; Should she tell him that she had done so, and reject a gift to which he evidently attached a half-superstitious importance? On considera- tion she decided against this course. It would bring about an exciting and perhaps stormy scene, and could do no good. They were not likely ever to meet again, so no embarrassment could ensue from her acceptance of his gift, and she need never wear it unless she clio~e. The two travelers were to leave early next morning, as they had a ride of some miles to reach the nearest railway station. The heat was excessive, and Miss Darrington, who had not been well for some days, found herself lan- guid and suffering; but she went down as usual. Alice Sibthorpe was in the room with her when Raphael came to say good-by. lie spoke his farewells lightly and gayly to both ladies,and left the room. Alice, followed to say hnother parting word to her brother, and to ~vatch with the rest the bustle of departure. Miss Darring- ton remained alone, and yielding to the languor of indisposition and the oppressive heat she sank down upon a lounge. A sadness deeper than she was prepared to feel, and which she chose to attribute m~inly to physical depression, sent the slow tears stealing through her closed eyelashes. So sunk was sh~ in the listlessness of her sorrowful mood that she did not heed the open- ing of the door, or perceive that she was not alone until, looking up, she saw Raphael again beside her. I-us face was pale, his lips trem- bled, his eyes flashed darkly through the tears that filled them. He bent over her; she ex- tended her hand. He caught and pressed it in his own so fiercely as ahnost to draw from her a cry of pain, lie seemed making an ef- fort to speak, but his voice died away in his throat. There was a sound of footsteps approaching the door. He heard it and started. Then sud- denly dropping on his knees beside her couch, and beading down to her feet, lie kissed them passionately, again and again, and rising, darted from the room. She heard him spring down the staircase, and the next moment the clatter of his horses hoofs dashing away, and the voice of Tom Sibthorpe swearing at him to stop. Miss Darrington was both shocked and pained by an incident which revealed a feeling on the part of her friend so much deeper than she had thought possible. But she consoled herself with the reflection that with him all emotions, though keen, were transient. Some other wo- man, she believed, would soon ensnare his fickle fancy, and efface from his mind all memories of pain. I shall regret him longer than he ~vill me, she said, and turned to ~vork as the best cure for scrrowful thoughts. The autumn of the year 1868 found Miss Darrington living in Boston. A busy woman now, for life with her had been steadily gather- ing new interests and occupations. ~Some youthful dreams, indeed, had faded out of sight, some triumphs anticipated once had been wholly missed; yet in the career she had marked out for herself a fair measure of success had re- warded her efforts, and won her the recognition so dear to us all. Without being a famous woman, she had secured a position which en- abled her to make her social world what she would. She ~vas happy and cheerful, for with WHAT DID MISS DARRINGTON SEE? lb her no sense was dulled, no power of enjoy- ment diminished; only the uneasy restlessness of youth had passed, and given place to the secure repose of one who has found her place a~nd learned to fill it. With a life thus pleasantly full, it was not surprising that the episode of her Kentucky sojourn gradually faded from her thoughts. As for her Cuban friend, it was seldom no~v that the idea of him returned to her. Beauti- flu as he had been to her, the passing teadresse she had felt for him had taken no hold upon her life. She had never woven his image with a single dream of the future; and the feeling with which she rememhered him, though grate- ful and even tender, had no longing in it. The little globe ot crystal still hung at her watch- chain, recalling, when it met her eye, a pleas- ant memory of those spring days they had spent together; hut for that reminder she might per- haps not have thought of him at all. She had never seen him, and all that she kne~v of him could he briefly told. On the onthreak of the war he had entered the Confederate army, held the rank of colonel, and fought with reckless bravery. But hecoming offended at some real or fancied slight put upon him by his com- manding officer, he resigned his commission; and the next thing known of him he was en- listed on the Union side. Probably he was actuated each time more hy a love of adven- ture than by any special sympathy with the cause either of Union or rebellion. Severely wounded in the third year of the war, he again withdrew from the service, and returned to Cuba. At Havana he had a quarrelit was only about a dogwith an Englishman in tha street; and the result was a duel, in ~vhich the Englishman was killed. To avoid the conse- quences of this affair he went to Mexico; and in that ever-seathing caldron of revolution and tumult he was finally lost to view. One evening late in Septemberit was the twenty-ninth, as she had reason afterward to note~i~Miss Darrington sat alone in the little room which served her as a study. It was a narrow but lofty apartment, its single high- arched window looking west~vard over the green trees of a square, with a glimpse of the Charles River shining beyond. A library table, a single tall book-case, a lounge, a bust or two, some flowers in the windowthese were nearly all the objects poticeable in the room. Miss Darrington, who had been unusually busy all day, laid down her pen, and, leaning wearily back in her arm-chair, turned her eyes on the glowing evening sky. It had been a day of unusual beauty, very warm for the sea- soP; and the sun was setting in a sky soft, brilliant, and clear. A flood of yellow light streamed on the quiet river and brightened the distant view. The spires and leafy domes of Cambridge swam in a golden haze. The soft- ened radiance filled the little room, and, falling about the lady herself; seemed to wrap her in an atmosphere of reverie. She was dreamily conscious of the beauty of the parting day; but she was not thinking of that, or, indeed, of any thing definite. She was, in fact, physically and mentally tired; and it was perhaps owing to this that a kind of depression stole over her not really a sense of pain or sorrow, only a heavy languor of spirit, a feeling more tinged with the hue of sadness than was habitual with her. A long time elapsed. The sun- light slowly withdre~v; the splendor of the sky passed into the paleness of evening, and a few of the larger stars began to show themselves; but still she remained motionless, and half un conscious of place or time. Isabel! The name was uttered almost at her elbow in a low, clear voice, whose accents were un- mistakable, even if she had not on the instant remembered who alone in all the world lund ever called her by that aame. She turned eagerly to welcome the unexpected guest. Raphael ! she exclaimed, in accents of un~ disguised pleasure. Lie was standing just within the room. The door, a heavy one, was closed; and she won- dered in a flash of thought how it could have opened to admit him nuheard by her. She half rose to meet him ; but a strange thrill shot through her, and an irresistible force bound her to her seat. She looked at him fixedly. There was still enough of brightness in the fading twilight for her to recognize unmistaka- bly his form and features. But his face was very pale, and there was a look upon it unlike any thing she had ever seen there. So sad, yet so stillso full of some strange calmit filled her with awe. She noticed that he wore a dress half military in its character, with some tarnished gold embroidery upon the breast, and a large cloak, thrown back and falling from his shoulders as he stood, his hat ir~his hand, in an attitude of careless grace she well re- membered. lie was so near she could almost have touched him with her hand. But yet he never spoke; otuly his lips parted with a tender smile, and his eves dwelt on her with a glance so intense, so full of fathomless love and sor- row, it was more than her heart could hear. he tried to speak; but though her lips shaped his name, her voice died away in a husky whisper. Suddenly over the pale sad face broke a look of rapturous joya smile like the stunshine of heaven; and in that in- stant the figure vanishedwas gone utterly in a breath; and the ladyfelt that she was alone. Miss Darrington is not a nervous woman, but it was some minutes before she could sum- mon sufficient calmness to act, or even to think~ Then she rang her bell, and a servant came to the door. Come in, she said, in answer to his respectful tap. But when he attempted to obey her the door ~vas found locked on the in- side. She remembered that she had herself turned thue key some hours before to secure her- self from interruption. Moreover, the man, on being questioned, declared with evident truth 116 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. that no visitor had passed in or out of the house since noon. It was by a strong effort of will that she now drove hack the superstitious feel- ings that assailed her, and forced a smile at her own absurdity. Of course the thing was an illusion, a trick of the imagination played on by nerves 6verworn with work. It was odd, though, that imagination should have raised up so vividly the image of one who cer- tainly had not recently been in her thoughts. Then, too, her memory could hardly have sup- plied some details of this vision; they were un- familiar. Where could she have got the pic- ture of her friend in that garb? The wide gray cloak, the gold-laced military dressthese were very unlike the negligent white linen suit in. which she remembered him. Only da one occasion had she seen him dressed otherwise, and that was the day when he rode to L to sit for the photograph which still hung at her side. On that day he. had put on a black evening dress. Then the voice which had ut- tered her namea name which only he had ever applied to her. How could imagination have raised that sound in her ear with such suddenness as to give her a shock of surprise? It was odd, certainly; but she did not choose to indulge herself in morbid fancies upon the subject. Convinced, that a lo~v physical con- dition was really responsible for the illusion of which she had been the victim, she resoliftely put the whole thing out of her mind, and set herself to get back the healthy tone to which nature entitled her. She left off writing, rode and walked frequently, and ~vent much into society. But she was not able to dissipate the impression made upon her mind by what she had seen. Whenever she thought of it it was with a renewal of the same strange thrill which she had contended with at the time. She could not help recalling certain ~vords which Raphael had once spoken to her, how he had vowed to seek her through the universe when death should have left him free to do so. Could such things be? And had death really freed that fiery and generous spirit? If so, whore and when had he passed away? In a country so full of political and social turmoil as Mexico it was easy to imagine all possible contingen- cies, especially with a man of his temper. She found herself frequently turning to the columns of Mexican correspondence in the newspa- pers, for the chance of lighting upon his name; vet she knew well how easy it would be, in the chaos of that country, for a single, stran- ger to vanish out of life and leave no trace. And thea she told herself again that this was all nonsense and nerves; that her old friend was probably alive and well somewhere; and that he had forgotten her as completely as if she had never crossad his path. So, by de- grees, the inten~ity of her firstimpression woi~e 6ff, and her mind was regaining its accustomed poise, when a new incident occurred. Tom Sibthorpe, at the close of the ~var, had settled himself to the practice of law in New York. He and Miss Darrington often met, and a warm friendship had grown up between them, kept alive by a frequent correspondence, not sentimental, but much like t.hat which two clever men are apt to enjoy. One day early ip December the lady received a letter from her friend, in which, after discussing in a lively manner one or two items of personal gossip, a new book, and the last 6oa-iaof, the writer said: Have you heard that it is all over with our poor friend Aldama? He was one of the few victims of the almost bloodless revolution with which sleepy old Spain has just been astonish- ing the world. I was not unprepared to hear of him as involved in that affair, for I knew that the dream of a free and regenerated Spain had taken strong hold upon him. You remember that, notwithstanding his long residence in Cuba, he was always intensely a Spaniard in feeling. Seven or eight months ago he went to London, and fell in with Prim and his con- clave of schemers. Of course they made much of him, for he ~vas just the man for their pur- poses. His reckless courage, his familiarity with every species of dangerous adventure, his indifference to the ordinary objects of ambition, which tooji him out of the list of rivals, and the immense wealth at his command, would make him invaluable to them. He entered heart and soul into their schemes; hut he seems to have been haunted by a presentiment that his life would be the cost. Some time in the summer he wrote me a long letter, in which, though it had occasional flashes of his old self, it was plain to see that he was opl)ressed by some strong foreboding. His life, he said, had never been of any use to himself or any one. He had wasted it all in the pursuit of a pleasure he had never found, chasing a phantom of happiness which had forever fled before him. It might partly redeem the worthlessness of such a life if he could strike one blo~v for Spain and liberty. If his country was to be free, some of her sons must bleed for her, and he could at least die as well as a better man. Then suddenly chang- ing both his tone and topic, he referred to our school-days together, recalling certain wild frolics we two had shared, in a gay and witty way that made me laugh then, but which now I can only think upon with tears. That was the last I heard from him until a few days ago, when a letter from my sister Alice, who, as you know, is married to Mr.Manners, an Englishman living in Madrid, gave me the whole sad story. It was in the month of August that Ra- phael, choosing, as usual, the post of greatest danger, went from Paris to Madrid, to com- municate ~vith the heads of the conspiracy there. The southern provinces were already alive with insurrection, but none of his friends in the city thought of connecting him with the movement. Only George Manners, a young relative of my brother-in-law, became, to some extent, his confidant, and ~~as deeply infected with his en- thttsiasm. Tht~ thing must have been well MATCHES. 117 managed, for the extent and power of the np- rising would seem to have been quite unrecog- nized. But events, as you know, moved very fast. The absence of the Queen from her cap- ital furnished the insurgents with just the op- portunity they required, and immediately the revolt became a revolution. Raphael, who must have held in his hands some important threads Qf the affair, remained in the city until the resignation of the Queens ministry; but on the 20th of September he left Madrid to put himself in communication with Serrano, who was marching to give battle to the royalist forccs. George Manners went with him, tell- ing Alice that there was going to be ~ row, and he wanted to see it. A fortnight later George came back alone. The account he gives is not very clear as to details, but the main facts are plain enough. They succeeded in joining Serranos forces a day or two before the engagement, which oc- curred on the 28th of September, not very far from Cordova; my recollection of the place, as named in the newspaper reports, is a little at fault.. Raphael had a command, and in the ac- tion became separated from his friend. When the fight was over, the Queens troops defeated and scattered, Manners tried in vain to find him. The young man had himself been taken pris- oner, and only released when his captors found him a hinderance to flight, so his knowledge of the incidents of the fight was a good deal con- fused. After a two days search, however, he learned that a wounded officer had been carried by some of his men iuto the hut of a peasant, the locality of which was pointed out to him, and had since died there.. He hastened to the place, and in the still, cold form that lay there alone on a rude bench, covered with a rough cavalry cloak, he recognized his friend and ours. Miss Darrington paused in her reading, and her breath came short and quick. The 28th of September! And he had lived for some hours afterhow long she would never know. But she recalled with a shock that made every nerve quiver that it was on the eyening of the 29th of September that she had seemed to see him in her own room It was some time before she could command herself sufficiently to go on with the letter. Poor Raphael, the writer continued there were splendid possibilities in him, if a bad education had not spoiled their promise. I hardly knew until he was gone how dear he had been to me. We were almost like broth- ers; and yet I knotv that he never fully re- vealed himself to me, and never would. After that visit to Catalpa Grove he was more than ever reserved. He was greatly changed, too; his boyish high spirits had vanished, and he seemed colder, graver, older by many years. I could not fail to see that his nature had been stirred to its profoundest deeps by some expe- riencewhether of joy or pain I never knew. The key to his secret was not in my hands. Dear friend, I believe that if any one possessed such a key it was yourself. You knew him but a little while, but you read him far better than I. No need to tell !/OU how rich in high im.. pulses, in noble aspirations, was that generous, ungoverned soul. But the world was out of joint for him always. Only once did any hope to set it right seem offered him, and he missed that. If he had not But forgive me. I am speculating upon contingencies which, per- haps, were never possible. Miss Darrington read no farther. The let- ter dropped from her hands, and her face was buried in them, while hot tears forced them- selves through her fingerstears of remorse- ful tehderness, as she thought how little she had prized, how little deserved, that strong, true, generous love which had held her to the last in such tender remembrance; which had made its way across the ocean, across the wider, deeper gulf that divides us from the unseen world, to give to her the greeting of lips that were sealed, the last loving look of eyes that were forever closed to all on earth beside! She believed that. If you donut itif you think it can not bcwill you tell me whet it was that Miss Darrington saw? MATCHES. NOT the sort, gentle reader, said to be made in heaven, but another, of which, though much less is written, yet, despite the abstruse nature of all kinds of match-making, much more can be understood. The matches to be described are more suggestive, from their name, odor, and the flames they kindle, of the under world rarely mentioned to ears polite in modern life, than of the paradise where the for- mer are supposed to have their origin. It is of Lucfer matches and their manufacture, the pa- tient thought applied to their creation by ma- chinery, and the marvelous results achieved, that I sit down to write. More than twenty-five years ago there came to our little village, nestling among the woods and hills far away in Central New York, a grave, quiet young man, who was said to have failed not long before in mercantile business. lie was a man of one idea; queer, the gos- sips called him; who, instead of being content to earn a living like his neighbors, as a sensible man should, wasted days and weeks in pottering at a machine, the like of which had never been heard of before. Well do I remember, as a child, the build- ing, hardly twelve feet square, containing both laboratory and work-shop,, in which this recluse lived, where he patiently toiled at his experi- ments for ten long years, and where, at last, he achieved success in the objectof his labors. To the children of the neighborhood this little den was a place most mysterious. Its small windowscut near the roof to prevent the cu- rious from overlooking his experiments and stealing his secretthe never-opened door, the

Laura M. Doolittle Doolittle, Laura M. Matches 117-120

MATCHES. 117 managed, for the extent and power of the np- rising would seem to have been quite unrecog- nized. But events, as you know, moved very fast. The absence of the Queen from her cap- ital furnished the insurgents with just the op- portunity they required, and immediately the revolt became a revolution. Raphael, who must have held in his hands some important threads Qf the affair, remained in the city until the resignation of the Queens ministry; but on the 20th of September he left Madrid to put himself in communication with Serrano, who was marching to give battle to the royalist forccs. George Manners went with him, tell- ing Alice that there was going to be ~ row, and he wanted to see it. A fortnight later George came back alone. The account he gives is not very clear as to details, but the main facts are plain enough. They succeeded in joining Serranos forces a day or two before the engagement, which oc- curred on the 28th of September, not very far from Cordova; my recollection of the place, as named in the newspaper reports, is a little at fault.. Raphael had a command, and in the ac- tion became separated from his friend. When the fight was over, the Queens troops defeated and scattered, Manners tried in vain to find him. The young man had himself been taken pris- oner, and only released when his captors found him a hinderance to flight, so his knowledge of the incidents of the fight was a good deal con- fused. After a two days search, however, he learned that a wounded officer had been carried by some of his men iuto the hut of a peasant, the locality of which was pointed out to him, and had since died there.. He hastened to the place, and in the still, cold form that lay there alone on a rude bench, covered with a rough cavalry cloak, he recognized his friend and ours. Miss Darrington paused in her reading, and her breath came short and quick. The 28th of September! And he had lived for some hours afterhow long she would never know. But she recalled with a shock that made every nerve quiver that it was on the eyening of the 29th of September that she had seemed to see him in her own room It was some time before she could command herself sufficiently to go on with the letter. Poor Raphael, the writer continued there were splendid possibilities in him, if a bad education had not spoiled their promise. I hardly knew until he was gone how dear he had been to me. We were almost like broth- ers; and yet I knotv that he never fully re- vealed himself to me, and never would. After that visit to Catalpa Grove he was more than ever reserved. He was greatly changed, too; his boyish high spirits had vanished, and he seemed colder, graver, older by many years. I could not fail to see that his nature had been stirred to its profoundest deeps by some expe- riencewhether of joy or pain I never knew. The key to his secret was not in my hands. Dear friend, I believe that if any one possessed such a key it was yourself. You knew him but a little while, but you read him far better than I. No need to tell !/OU how rich in high im.. pulses, in noble aspirations, was that generous, ungoverned soul. But the world was out of joint for him always. Only once did any hope to set it right seem offered him, and he missed that. If he had not But forgive me. I am speculating upon contingencies which, per- haps, were never possible. Miss Darrington read no farther. The let- ter dropped from her hands, and her face was buried in them, while hot tears forced them- selves through her fingerstears of remorse- ful tehderness, as she thought how little she had prized, how little deserved, that strong, true, generous love which had held her to the last in such tender remembrance; which had made its way across the ocean, across the wider, deeper gulf that divides us from the unseen world, to give to her the greeting of lips that were sealed, the last loving look of eyes that were forever closed to all on earth beside! She believed that. If you donut itif you think it can not bcwill you tell me whet it was that Miss Darrington saw? MATCHES. NOT the sort, gentle reader, said to be made in heaven, but another, of which, though much less is written, yet, despite the abstruse nature of all kinds of match-making, much more can be understood. The matches to be described are more suggestive, from their name, odor, and the flames they kindle, of the under world rarely mentioned to ears polite in modern life, than of the paradise where the for- mer are supposed to have their origin. It is of Lucfer matches and their manufacture, the pa- tient thought applied to their creation by ma- chinery, and the marvelous results achieved, that I sit down to write. More than twenty-five years ago there came to our little village, nestling among the woods and hills far away in Central New York, a grave, quiet young man, who was said to have failed not long before in mercantile business. lie was a man of one idea; queer, the gos- sips called him; who, instead of being content to earn a living like his neighbors, as a sensible man should, wasted days and weeks in pottering at a machine, the like of which had never been heard of before. Well do I remember, as a child, the build- ing, hardly twelve feet square, containing both laboratory and work-shop,, in which this recluse lived, where he patiently toiled at his experi- ments for ten long years, and where, at last, he achieved success in the objectof his labors. To the children of the neighborhood this little den was a place most mysterious. Its small windowscut near the roof to prevent the cu- rious from overlooking his experiments and stealing his secretthe never-opened door, the 118 hARPERS KEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. reputed inhospitality of the occupant, and the ward by little jumps, bringing the end of the mystery that attached to himall invested the block just above a cutter composed . of tiny little house with an awfulness quite impressive, circles of steel, which takes off twelve splints It was to us as the haunt of some alchemist or at each ascending stroke. These splints then the retreat of a sorcerer, and we half imagined pass between the links of a chain, as it is that incantations were being said there, and called, composed of two pieces of wood (each spells and charms being wrought, and kept a the length of a common ~lothes-pin, and of respectful distance. accordingly. Good Mr. the same shape were it open at both ends) G has little idea how many of his quiet, placed together, their convex sides toward each undisturbed hours he owes to the fact of this other. These pieces are linked at either end impression among the children, the smaller of in twos, the pairs about an inch apart, forming whom scarcely dared take a nearer view than a continuous chain two hundred feet in length. from the hill above, where they were separated This chain passes through the machine direct- from the little work-shop by an unfordable ly over the cutter, the splints as they are sep- stream. arated from the block being received between Immediately on Mr. .G s arrival in the the two sides of the clothes-pin links, which are village he had built two or three little shanties, grooved to suit them. The chain moves just in which he commenced the manufacture of rapidly enough to take up the results of each matches in small quantities, the work being cutting as the knife performs its work. Pass- done mostly by hand, or with the aid of very ing along a few feet, a little hammer jumps up simple machinery. The boxes for packing from the floor and strikes each link with force were made by children at their own homes. enough to dislodge the imperfect splints, which He superintended his business operations in are but slightly held, and they drop upon the the most careful manner, meanwhile devotedly floor. A few feet farther on the chain passes prosecuting his efforts in the little work-shop. over a wheel, which revolves slowly in a tiny Gradually the business increased, the buildings reservoir of melted brimstone, the ends of the grew in number and size until there was quite a incipient matches getting a bath as they pass. settlement by the bank of the stream which fur- After this they, move forty or fifty feet farther, nished the motive power, and match-making until quite dry, when, on their return course, became the principal industry of the village, they are held down by a steel finger, and made Never was inventor more reticent. Little came to just taste the liquid phosphorus, which is to the ears of the people about the new wonder, taken up by a second ~vheel from a reservoir yet it was known that all his leisure hours were similar to that which holds the brimstone. spent in the little work-shop, though it was not They then finish their journey of forty or fifty known that the machinery was slowly and sure- feet, by which time they are quite dry. At the ly growing to perfection under his persevering end of the course the chain passes over a wheel industry and genius. Among those who were elevated above the cutting-machine, from which furnished profitable empluyment at the factory it falls perpendicularly. As each link reaches a secret dread began in time to be felt lest a tray made to receive them, the matches, something should be developed which would smoking and threatening to ignite, are gently take the work from their hands and the bread pushed from it by a sliding piece of steel, which from their mouths. rl7his, in the minds of is thrust out just often enough to dislodge each many, deepened into dismay, as, after several row as it is brought along by the endless chain. years, rumors began to get abroad that the This, emptied of its contents, soon passes again machine was finished, and would soon be in through the machine, over the block, to receive operation. It was the old, old storythe same another package of its tiny freight within each fear which seizes the minds of laborers every of its innumerable links. where upon the introduction of modern ma- Eight of these machines are running con- chines, where, ~vith the aid of the elements, stantly, making eight hundred gross of matches one alone does the work of a score or more of per day, a gross numbering fourteen thousand, hands. and chipping away in the course of a year six Mr. G s invention has now been in misc for hundred thousand feet of pine lumber. This about twelve years. Upon witnessing its op- lumber is thoroughly dried in a kiln before be- eration, a few days since, I could not wonder at ing prepared for the machines. Two hundred the chagrin of the employ6s ~vhen it was brought and fifty thousand feet of bass-wood are annu- into competition with their labor. It seems as ally made iiito shipping. cases. Three hundred though the magic of the childrens imagination barrels of brimstone and ninety thousand had actually been embodied, that spells had pounds of phosphorus are taken up yearly by been wrought upon the obstinate steel, and the these endless chains from the little reservoirs. elements had been charmed to execute mans The machine for making the paper boxes thought. the smnallest packages in which the matches are A block of wood two feet long, and of a put upseemed to me most ingenious of all. thickness sufficient for the length of a match, This, too, is smallnot taller than an old-fash- is placed upon a little iron shelf in one of these ioned spinning-wheel. Upon a rod, at Lw machines, not a great deal more ponderous back of the machine, is placed a large roll of than a sewing-machine. The shelf moves for- paper, cut as wide as the boxes are long. The MATCHES. 11~3 end of this roll passes to a large wheel, about eighteen inches in diameter, which slowly re- volves. On its way, however, one edge of the paper rolls over a tiny wheel, which dips. in a vab of ~vater, fed, apparently, by exhaustless springs; then, prepared by the water readily to absorb the l)aste, it passes between two V-shaped reservoirs, which leak from the small end just paste enough to makq the two sides of the pa- per readily adhere when the time comes for them to stick together. As the paper reaches the top of the wheel first mentioned a steel bar, of the size desired for the box, rests upon it, thrust out from a larger wheel, which closely flanks this, and in which some wonderful intel- ligence seems to reside, directing all its move- anents with unerring precision. At the same instant a sharp little knife descends, chopping off the paper into the lengths required. A steel mallet, a trifle farther along on the wheel, folds the paper snugly round the bar. A little steel finger presses the pasted edges toge~her, when a fairy hammer comes down upon the end of the box, which extends just far enough beyond the bar, pressing one side of the paper close upon its end. In an instant another finger, impelled by a little coiled wire, presses the end of the box down upon another side; a third turns in the side opposite; while the last is smoothly and firmly pressed upon the others by a little mallet, which meets it just in the nick of time as it passes. When the box is finish- ed, and you think the last operation done, what is yonr surprise upon discovering that the little machine carries a printing-press along with it type, ink, and all! Without making any halt, while quietly moving along toward its jumping- off place, it receives, from a little stamp in the form ofa roller, the name of the maker and of the village in which he lives, together with an important piece of information, condensed in two words None better. By this tim~ the box has made the circumference of the wheel, and is ready to drop off complete. A steel plate is adjusted to press lightly against its lower edge, the genii inside the larger wheel suddenly withdraw the bar from the box into its hole, four tiny brass fingers seize it, while three others, which shut into the first like those of clasped hands, throw itby a back~vard mo- tion, lest the grasp should be too tenacious upon the pasted boxinto the huge basket beneath. But do not imagine that only one box is completed in a revolution of the wheel. While we have been watching the progress of one, three others have been in process of manufac- ture upon the same wheel; the various opera- tions of pasting, cutting, folding, turning in the ends, and printing going on at the same time; the bars, mallets, fingers, and springs perform- ing each their appropriate work, upon every successive box, as though the presiding genius of the machine, like some of the lightning calculators, could give its mind to half a dozen different things at the same moment. The boxes arc emptied into immense dumb- waiters, Which, every year, carry twenty tons of thens to the room below, in which sit forty or fifty girls busily at work filling the boxes with matches, no machinery yet being invented to supersede human labor in this part of the work. So. perfectly do these machines do their task that only one person is. required to tend each. To be supplied with the raw material, and to have their product removed when complete, is all they ask. Almost the only part of the work left to be done by manual labor is the sanding of the boxes, making the eases, and packing the matches; yet there are employed in the various manufactures connected with the estals- lishment two hundred and fifty hands. A large proportion of these are children, by whom much of the work can be done as well as by adults. This manufactory is sui geaeris. Mr. G is quite independent of all the rest of the world. All the mnachinery in use is his own invention. It is all made at his shops. lie keeps his. own machinists at work year after year, making ne~v and repairing old. The repairing constitutes a large part of the work, for, owing to the nature of the manufacture, some portions of the ma- chinery wear out rapidly. The little cutters ~vhich shape the matches out of the block, e. g., sometimes last only two or three~ days, while other portions burn out from contact with the phosphorus. There is no machinery like it. It is patented both in England and the United States. The right to use it has never been sold, the manufacture being more profitable than ~vould be the sale of rights to use the patent. rca years ~vere spent in peifecting it, years which, could they tell their story, would speak of numberless discouragements, of plans constantly improving, of untiring industry and genius, and of imperfect schemes abandoned because other and better grew out of previous failures. Contrary to the principle g~ncrnlly supposed to obtain, of taxing most heavily the luxuries of life, matches, which certainly must be count- ed among necessaries, are taxed twice the amount of their cost. A cent stamp is re- quired upon each box of one hundred matches, which is itself worth only one-third of a cent. At the time this tax was imposed much incon- venience was felt by the manufacturers, they being obliged to double their capital or dimin- ish the amount of their production. The inev- itable committee waited upon Congress to con- viace members of the error of so large a tax, but failed to make that august body view the subject in the same light with themselves. The factory 1 have attempted to describe daily uses stamps to the amount of eleven hun. dred and fifty-two dollars. Since the tax bill of 1864 this factory has paid into the United States treasury a million and a half dollars. This is a larger contribution, in proportion to tie value of the article taxed, than is levied upon any thing else except whisky. A gross box of matches, which, before the war, sold for forty cents, now sells for two dollars and forty cents. 120 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. There is a singular and very curious disease of the jaw to which persons ~vho work in match factories are, liablethe result of breathing the fumes of phosphorus. No danger exists, how- ever, except to those haying canons teeth. If these he permitted to remain in the mouth the jaw becomes affected, crumbles, and decays, just as do the teeth themselves. In rare instances a portion of the jaw has had to be removed. This malady is now guarded against by a regu- lation requiring those employed in rooms where there is phosphorus to submit periodically to a dental examination, a ad have all cavities plugged as soon as they appear, this being the only effectual preventive. There is a theory held, I believe, by the proprietors of this factory, that, if the operatives would breathe through the nose, and keep the mouth shut, they would avoid all daliger from the phosphorus. But this, slanderously added my informant, in giv- ing me his opinion, would be too much to expect of the women. The effect upon the general health is not, I am sure, deleterious, judging from the rosy cheeks and nicely rounded forms of the fifty girls who sat at work in the large, well-ventilated room, filling the little boxes; their fingers flying, each mo- tion exactly adapted to produce the greatest result in the shortest possible time, and with such precision that it seemed as though there must be concealed about their elbows sotne of those wonderful springs which produce such marvelous effects in the rooms above. A large proportion of the workwomen are foreigners, the deep blue eyes and jetty, curling hair, the fair skin and ruddy cheeks, telling of Celt- ic blood, where there was no trace of it either in speech or manner, so rapidly does daily intercourse wear off the sharpness of foreign descent. ORANGE BLOSSOMS AND NIGHT- SHADE. f OUNGING one autumn day into a New .t~4 York picture-gallery, I was attracted by a living face which had for me far more of in- terest than the best of the paintings that hung upon the walls. It was the face of a girl who sat on a sofa with a young manperhaps her brother, one thought at firstmuch more probably her lover, was the next conjecture. Neither the girl nor the young man looked at the pictures, or seemed in any way conscious of their existence. The gallery was evidently a rendezvous for them, and nothing more. I wish I could by any descriptive words of mine convey an adequate idea of the face and the expression of this girl, as they then impressed themselves on me. She was tall and slender, and, being dressed all in black, she looked per- haps even taller and more slender than she really was. Her face ~vas slightly aquiline, her hair black, crisp, and wavy; her complexion almost like that of a creole; her eves intense- ly dark. 1)ecidedly she was a very handsome girlalthough her face was thin and sharp, and the eyes, rather deeply set, had dark cir- cles round them. But it was not her beauty which first struck the spectator; indeed, at first, one was not likely to think her beautiful; it was the mobility, the variety, the intensity of her expression. Every fea;ture, nay, every fibre of her face, came into play as she spoke, and added force and character of its oWn to her manner. her eyes never restednever retained the same look in them for a moment. She ~as telling her lover some long story or otherwith a personal grievance in it, appar- entlyand without much of gesture, without altering her position in the least, she threw as much dramatic energy into it as if she were a tragic actress. her eyes now flashed angry in-. quiry on her lover, as if she would ask him whether he did not fully sympathize with her; now glanced aside with a half-alarmed expres- sion, as if she dreaded that some listener might h~tve caught her words; now dropped appeal- ingly and sadly; now lighted again with pride and resolution; now seemed as though they were about to fill with tears. Observe that they were not twinkling eyes. Twinkling dark eyes never can have any depth of expression in them; they can express malice, but not hate; merriment, but not humor; disappoint- ment, but not grief; self-conceit, but not pride. The eyes of the girl I speak of did net twinkle. They were deep, lustrous, flashing eyes. They seemed to watch you, almost to oppress you, in whatever part of the room you might hap- pen to be. Eyes, face, expressionall spoke of an eager, impatient, and passionate nature; a nature capable of immense sacrifice and dar- - ing, liable, almost doomed, one would say, to much suffering a fiery soul that, working out its way, seemed likely, indeed, to fret the pigmy body to decay, and oer-inform its ten- ement of clay. The lover who listened to her was a hand- some young man, elegantly dressedjust a ~vell-got-up fashionable young man, with no- thing very remarkable about him. He looked intelligent and good-natured; and he certainly seemed to listen very patiently and with inter- est to the long outpouring of the girls w6rds. She had, apparently, as great a command and variety of language as of expression. Look- ing at her, and much struck with her appear- ance as I was, I could not think that even were I a bachelor I should have envied her lover. I could scarcely form to myself the idea of any lover approaching her with a caress. Yet it was not that she inspired awe. There was no- thing majestic about her, and assuredly there was nothing cold. No; she rather inspired something like a sentiment of pity. One could not help thinking This girls eager soul will consume her; the realities of life will como against the edge of her impatient spirit like blocks against a razor; no snan will ever love her enough; no sphere, no scene, no mod~ of existence will satisfy heir. She is destined to

Justin M'Carthy M'Carthy, Justin Orange Blossoms and Night-Shade 120-123

120 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. There is a singular and very curious disease of the jaw to which persons ~vho work in match factories are, liablethe result of breathing the fumes of phosphorus. No danger exists, how- ever, except to those haying canons teeth. If these he permitted to remain in the mouth the jaw becomes affected, crumbles, and decays, just as do the teeth themselves. In rare instances a portion of the jaw has had to be removed. This malady is now guarded against by a regu- lation requiring those employed in rooms where there is phosphorus to submit periodically to a dental examination, a ad have all cavities plugged as soon as they appear, this being the only effectual preventive. There is a theory held, I believe, by the proprietors of this factory, that, if the operatives would breathe through the nose, and keep the mouth shut, they would avoid all daliger from the phosphorus. But this, slanderously added my informant, in giv- ing me his opinion, would be too much to expect of the women. The effect upon the general health is not, I am sure, deleterious, judging from the rosy cheeks and nicely rounded forms of the fifty girls who sat at work in the large, well-ventilated room, filling the little boxes; their fingers flying, each mo- tion exactly adapted to produce the greatest result in the shortest possible time, and with such precision that it seemed as though there must be concealed about their elbows sotne of those wonderful springs which produce such marvelous effects in the rooms above. A large proportion of the workwomen are foreigners, the deep blue eyes and jetty, curling hair, the fair skin and ruddy cheeks, telling of Celt- ic blood, where there was no trace of it either in speech or manner, so rapidly does daily intercourse wear off the sharpness of foreign descent. ORANGE BLOSSOMS AND NIGHT- SHADE. f OUNGING one autumn day into a New .t~4 York picture-gallery, I was attracted by a living face which had for me far more of in- terest than the best of the paintings that hung upon the walls. It was the face of a girl who sat on a sofa with a young manperhaps her brother, one thought at firstmuch more probably her lover, was the next conjecture. Neither the girl nor the young man looked at the pictures, or seemed in any way conscious of their existence. The gallery was evidently a rendezvous for them, and nothing more. I wish I could by any descriptive words of mine convey an adequate idea of the face and the expression of this girl, as they then impressed themselves on me. She was tall and slender, and, being dressed all in black, she looked per- haps even taller and more slender than she really was. Her face ~vas slightly aquiline, her hair black, crisp, and wavy; her complexion almost like that of a creole; her eves intense- ly dark. 1)ecidedly she was a very handsome girlalthough her face was thin and sharp, and the eyes, rather deeply set, had dark cir- cles round them. But it was not her beauty which first struck the spectator; indeed, at first, one was not likely to think her beautiful; it was the mobility, the variety, the intensity of her expression. Every fea;ture, nay, every fibre of her face, came into play as she spoke, and added force and character of its oWn to her manner. her eyes never restednever retained the same look in them for a moment. She ~as telling her lover some long story or otherwith a personal grievance in it, appar- entlyand without much of gesture, without altering her position in the least, she threw as much dramatic energy into it as if she were a tragic actress. her eyes now flashed angry in-. quiry on her lover, as if she would ask him whether he did not fully sympathize with her; now glanced aside with a half-alarmed expres- sion, as if she dreaded that some listener might h~tve caught her words; now dropped appeal- ingly and sadly; now lighted again with pride and resolution; now seemed as though they were about to fill with tears. Observe that they were not twinkling eyes. Twinkling dark eyes never can have any depth of expression in them; they can express malice, but not hate; merriment, but not humor; disappoint- ment, but not grief; self-conceit, but not pride. The eyes of the girl I speak of did net twinkle. They were deep, lustrous, flashing eyes. They seemed to watch you, almost to oppress you, in whatever part of the room you might hap- pen to be. Eyes, face, expressionall spoke of an eager, impatient, and passionate nature; a nature capable of immense sacrifice and dar- - ing, liable, almost doomed, one would say, to much suffering a fiery soul that, working out its way, seemed likely, indeed, to fret the pigmy body to decay, and oer-inform its ten- ement of clay. The lover who listened to her was a hand- some young man, elegantly dressedjust a ~vell-got-up fashionable young man, with no- thing very remarkable about him. He looked intelligent and good-natured; and he certainly seemed to listen very patiently and with inter- est to the long outpouring of the girls w6rds. She had, apparently, as great a command and variety of language as of expression. Look- ing at her, and much struck with her appear- ance as I was, I could not think that even were I a bachelor I should have envied her lover. I could scarcely form to myself the idea of any lover approaching her with a caress. Yet it was not that she inspired awe. There was no- thing majestic about her, and assuredly there was nothing cold. No; she rather inspired something like a sentiment of pity. One could not help thinking This girls eager soul will consume her; the realities of life will como against the edge of her impatient spirit like blocks against a razor; no snan will ever love her enough; no sphere, no scene, no mod~ of existence will satisfy heir. She is destined to ORANGE BLOSSOMS AND NIGHT-SHADE. 121 create her own disappointments, and to fret away her life, against them.~ And as I looked at her I began to wonder whether, after all, that marvelous mobility and force of expression were not merely physical gifts in this case, as in so many others. Per- haps all that animation and eagerness may have been awakened by some utterly trumpery cause. Perhaps her long wind passionate tale of grievance is about her fathers refusal to buy her a new dress, or her cousins ill-natured con- duct during the last week of their stay at Sara- toga. But its I passed the pair, on my way round the roomfor I began to fear that I had watched them quite long enoughI heardI c6uld not help hearing-some words drop from her lips which somewhat sustained the earnest and pas- sionate view of her nature and her story: For I am alone on earth, except for you The words clung to my memory and lived there. I came afterward to know all about her who spoke thent. And dismissing myself now wholly from the narrative, I shall tell her strange and painful story. Sara Harnersley was the daughter of a Vir- ginian father and an Italian mother. She was highly educated, brought up in luxury, living more of her life in Europe than in Virginia. And she was in a fair way of being spoiled and rendered a mere woman of fashion and frivoli- ty, when two great events occurred to arouse her soul. First, her mother diedand she had always loved her mother passionately; next, she fell in love with a young New Yorker, a man likely to succeed to a large fortune, Leslie Sewell by name. They met in Florence and Naples and Rome; again, another year, in Lon- don and Paris. And when both had returned to America., Leslie Sewell asked her to marry him. This was just at the ~lose of the war, and the hatted toward the North felt by Mr. Hamersley, who had, nevertheless, spent the best part of the years of war pleasantly in Europe, was intense. He insisted that his daughter must not marry young Sewell, the New Yorker. She, as proud and determined as himself; declared that nothing should prevent her from marrying the man she loved. A bit- terquarrel was springing up, which the sad and sudden death of her mother stopped for a time. Poor Sara was literally torn with grief, and almost, for the moment, ceased to think of her lover. But the thought of him returned more and more powerfully in her loneliness, and their correspondence never had ceased. So when, a year after her mothers death, her father asked her decisively whether she had yet given up all idea of marrying Leslie Sewell, she answered, firmly, that. she never had and never would. Then came the quarrel all over againa quar- rel between two passionate, unyielding natures. Within six months Mr. Hamersley had married again, and his daughter left his house. She had some little money of her own, and she came to New York to live, consoled in her trials hv the thought that now she was brought close to her lover, and had given up all for him. She felt proud of the sacrifice which proved her love. And he? Well, Leslie Sewell was a good sort of fellow. To her, an enthusiast in every thing, he seemed a god. His quiet self-pos- session, apathetic good-humor, appeared to her eager, passionate soul the very sublimity of se- rene and noble calmness and depth. She thought she had found a tranquil, strong nature to lean upon; and all her spirit demanded to be at once controlled and soothed. Poor Leslie had all a mans dread and dislike of worry and trouble, and her vehement impulses and eager demands perplexed him sadly. lie was very fond of heroh yes! of courseand then he had pledged himself to marry her, and, of course, he meant to keep his word. But, then, easy-go- ing Leslie, in the beginning, had never counted on a family quarrel; he did not like the re- sponsibility of having separated a girl from her father; he always thought the whole thing would have been en r~gle quiet, and fashionable. He found himself entangled in a romance, and he was never fond even of reading romances. His pleasant, joyous life became darkened by a shadow. The passionate, pathetic eyes of Sara llamersley spoiled his delight in his fast trot- ting horses and the Central Park; her pale cheeks came between him and his appreciation of the beauties of the Forty Thieves at Nib- bs. lie was an unpoetic and commonplace illustration, or, perhaps, rather a burlesque, of Goethes exquisite and famous idea, used apro- pos of Hamlet, of the oak planted in the crystal vase. The whole nature of a man like him was not fit to inclose the love of such a heart as Sara Hamersleys; and the poor fellow began to feel wretchedly uncomfortable. The best dinner of Delmonicos serving lost its relish for him; he had no palate for the Champagne, even though he felt driven to drink it hugely; and chicken salad was for him as tasteless and arid as the sand of the desert or the red mud of New Jersey. To make the matter worse, it was not very long beforeLeslie found out that he had really fallen in love with the wrong. woman, and that the right woman was at his hand. His cousin, Cecilia Wynter, a marvelously pretty, bright- haired little thing, with a figure which made even the Grecian bend look graceful, and who would have seemed a model of fashion in a nibht- gown, came home from Europe. How admira- bly she could ride! How brilliant she was at croquet! What a delightful waltzer she was! And how charmingly she talkedvivacious, yet easy and gentleno mysticism, and no be- wildering vehemence and overpowering passion about her! She could love a man in a really lady-like fashion, and never discompose herself or him. She was a woman who was evidently quite free from jealousy. Her happy husband would, doubtless, be at liberty to dispose of his spare time and attentions as he would, without question or quarrel. Then she had a large for- 122 2UARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. tune, and her family all liked Leslie Seweil; and, indeed, the pretty Cecilia evidently liked him too. Ab, yes; there was the woman who would have suited himthere was the woman he shQuld have married! And now! But, of course, he meant to keep his word. Sara had eyes, and saw. At first she refused to accept the evidence of her senses when they told her that he whom she believed her lover was growing cold to herloved her no more nay, was actually tired of her. But the truth soon came cruelly, crushingly on her, and she saw that he would gladlybe rid of her. Moreover, she had watched, and she now knew the cause. She came to the point with characteristic vehemence: Leslie, I know all; you do not love me any more. Oh, now come, Sara. I do wonder at you. Really, I do. how can you say such a thing? How have I ever shown No; you have been polite enough never to turn your back on me; and I believe you would have married me without a murmur. Thank you for that. But your hearthave you a heart ?is gone from me, and I will never marry you! There, that relieves you from all trouble, and sets you free. I will never mar- ry you. I swear it! Never, though you were again to love me! Never, though the spirit of my dead mother came down from heaven to command me! Never, though you and I stood alone on the earth Dear Sara, you are too hard on me. Let me urge you She only flashed on him a look of utter scorn, superb disdain, and left him. He iveat that night to his club with a light heart, and could hardly conceal from his friends the joy that possessed him. Next morning he called on Cecilia Wynter, and he took her for a drive that afternoon in Central Park. Sara went to her home that evening, and passed whole hours seated in a chair, with her head leaning on her hands, and gazing into va- cancy. Hardly could any creature have suf- fered keener agony than she did through all that time. Why did she not weep and sob, and become convulsive or hysterical, as other wo- men would have done? She was, one would think, the most demonstrative of her sex; her love had been singularly effusive; and now she sat silently under one of the heaviest blows that can be inflicted on human passion and human pride, and she made no sign. Was it because the blow had utterly stunned her? No; it was because she was thinking of revenge. After a while she arose, with brighter eyes. and moved with quick and easy step. The cone solation which another woman would have found in religion she sought, and for the moment found, in thoughts of revenge. That night she outwatched the stars, and sank to sleep, at last, only when exhausted by the strain of one fierce resolution, and the work of devising plans to put it into practice. A few weeks made a great change in the de- meanor of Sara Ilamersley. From a quiet, al- most lonely life, she passed into a vivid, varied existence. She went a great deal into society. She always had many friends, who would have been delighted with her company; and now, at last, she availed herself of their kindness and their invitations. All her talents, which were many, she employedin rendering herself a brill- iant ornament of society in New York. 11cr friends were delighted at the change, am}d those who knew her set it down to her release from her engagement with poor Leslie. It was the oddest infatuation on her part, they would say. Leslie Sewell is a handsome fellow, and a good fellow too, but he has no brains to speak of, and they never could have got on together. Probably she had begun to find that out, and was oppressed and made miserable by the thought, poor girl! Now she is free, and sce how happy she is! Sara was on the best of terms with Cecilia Wynter, and, of course, with Leslie, who was now Cecilias aflianced husband. Sara had generously sought out Cecilia, and showed her first the ~varmest good-will, then the most mark- ed friendship. After a while they became con- stant companions. Good - natured Leslie was delighted with this condition of things, and could not sufficiently congratulate himself on the manner in which Sara had taken the changes of the past few weeks. He began to think that, after all, Miss Hamersley could not really have loved him very much, and he was too good-na- tured not to be glad of italthough that, per- haps, is as severea test as can well be applied to mans good nature. To be really sincerely glad, for the womans own sake, that a woman whom we thought to be dying of love for us did not care three straws about us all the timeyes, that is a trial of mans loyalty and generosity! This Leslie Sewell was, with all his dullness and his faults, so good a fellow that his nature stood the hard test, and came out triumphant. He was sincerely glad to think that Sara Ham- ershey had never been really fond of him. The wedding morning came, and Miss Ham- ersley was actually one of the bridemaids. Very beautiful she looked, with her dark hair, her eyes now burning with a lustre more in- tense than ever, and her white dress. She quite eclipsed the pretty, harmless - looking, blonde bride. After the marriage there was a breakfastEnglish fashion (the XVynters ~vere very fond of doing every thing in European and, particularly, English style) and there was Champagne, and there were healths, and stam- mering little speeches. After the toast of the bride and bridegroom came, in due time, thp bridemnaids. Sara had a glass of Champagne before her which she had barely tasted. As the gentle- men rose to drink the health she drew the glass toward her, and then seemed to be reviv- ing its foam with the touch of a dainty little biscuit. AN~E FURNESS. 123 Cecilia, love, she whispered to the bride, will you not drink our healths ? Oh, dear Sara, I never touch ~vine. No, love, ifor I, usually; hut I have tasted some this once, to your health. Come, do drink from this glass, for love and good for- tune. She put her own glass into the Illacid hand of Cecilia. To oblige ~ou, Sara, said Cecilia; and she drank. Oh dear! how unpleastint to the taste! A bright flash shot across the face of Sara Hamersley, and her lips quivered. Who returns thanks for the bridemaids called the father of the bride, glancing along the table. I Pray, allow me, said Sara, now rising grace- fully among the astonished company. Allow a bridemaid for once to speak for bridemaids. (Odd girl, some voices whispered.) I only fear I shall disturb the delight of the morning by what I have to say. Leslie Sewell, I drink the remains of this ~vine, with which I have poisoned your pretty bride, and thus I execute at once vengeance on you, through her, and justice on myself! And before any of the bewildered guests could interfere not many of thee, indeed, had fully heard her words she drained the glass, and, gazed. around the room with defiant, triumphant smile. Then there were wild cries and shrieks; every body started up; several of the ladies rushed to the fainting, aifrighted bride; and Sara Ilamers- ley fell on the floor, dead. She had killed herself, but not her enemy. The mineral poison she had hastily dropped into the Champagne glass had not had time to blend itself thoroughly with the wine, when the brides dainty lips just touched its foam; and Cecilia escaped with a swoon, and a few days of sickness. The story was hushed up, as well as such a thing could be, and the general idea was that Sara Hamersley had suddenly gone mad, and swallowed poison. But there were someher former lovei~ was onewho knew only too ~vell how deliberate and how relentless had been her plot of vengeance. ANNE FURNESS. By THE AUTHOR OF MABELS PROGREss, AUNT MARGARETS TROUBLE, VERONIcA, ETC. CHAPTER XVI. I hAD an opportunity of observing Donald better the next morning, as he and grand- father and I strolled round the garden together after breakfast, and of comparing his preeent appearance with my half-effaced remembrance of him as a boy. Donald retained the grave candor of his cx- l)ression, and a mixture of frankness and shy- ness in his smile, and in a certain trick of the eyebrows, which had made his somewhat home- ly face attractive when he was a child. But there were thought and purpose on his forehead now, and reflective earnestness in his eyes, that had come with ripening years. And although his dress was plain almost to rudeness, and his gait careless% and his gestures abrupt, he was unmistakably a gentleman. I use the.word in no high-flown sense of innate honesty and no- bility. I simply mean to express that most subtile and indefinable combination of qualities (consistiub, in Donalds case, neither in ele- gance of attire, nor suavity of demeanor, nor polish of language) which Englishmen recog- nize as conventionally constitm~ting a gentleman. And in saving that Donald was unmistakably a gentleman, I should limit my assertion some- what. For example, it crossed my mind as we were pacing the moss-grown garden paths, that Sam Cudherry, if called on to recognize Donald as a gentleman, would probably decline to do so, on the ground of his rough gray coat and thick boots. To grandfather~s great delight, we found that Donald had retained a very vivid recollection of the garden and the shrubbery, and of all the moving accidents by flood and field which we had enacted there. Jt all looked smaller to him, of course, than he had pictured it in his mind, he said. But, with that exception, the garden of Mortlands was precisely what he had remembered and expected. When our stroll was finished, grandfather withdrew to his study, taking Donald with him, as they had various matters to discuss togethe~, and I said good-by to both of them, for I was. to return to Water-Eardley in good time. Im sorry you must run away, little Nan- cy, said my grandfather. I promised. To be sure, to be sure! I dont mean to urge you to break a promise. Give my love to tour dear mother, and tell her that Donald Avrlie means to come over very soon, and. pay his respects to her. It will be a nice walk for him some fine, crisp morning; so look for him early. Oh, grandfather ! I exclaimed, detaining him by the arm as he was about to turn away, I did not give you the fashionable intelli- gence! Now, little Nancy, this is terrible! Not to give me the fashionable intelligence, when you know it is the pabulumthat sounds very fine, I think; quite like a newspaperthe pabulum of my existence! Yes, I know, I returned, laughing at his solemn face. And, therefore, lest you should he starved outright, I hasten to inform von that

The Author of 'Mabel's Progress' The Author of 'Mabel's Progress' Anne Furness 123-135

AN~E FURNESS. 123 Cecilia, love, she whispered to the bride, will you not drink our healths ? Oh, dear Sara, I never touch ~vine. No, love, ifor I, usually; hut I have tasted some this once, to your health. Come, do drink from this glass, for love and good for- tune. She put her own glass into the Illacid hand of Cecilia. To oblige ~ou, Sara, said Cecilia; and she drank. Oh dear! how unpleastint to the taste! A bright flash shot across the face of Sara Hamersley, and her lips quivered. Who returns thanks for the bridemaids called the father of the bride, glancing along the table. I Pray, allow me, said Sara, now rising grace- fully among the astonished company. Allow a bridemaid for once to speak for bridemaids. (Odd girl, some voices whispered.) I only fear I shall disturb the delight of the morning by what I have to say. Leslie Sewell, I drink the remains of this ~vine, with which I have poisoned your pretty bride, and thus I execute at once vengeance on you, through her, and justice on myself! And before any of the bewildered guests could interfere not many of thee, indeed, had fully heard her words she drained the glass, and, gazed. around the room with defiant, triumphant smile. Then there were wild cries and shrieks; every body started up; several of the ladies rushed to the fainting, aifrighted bride; and Sara Ilamers- ley fell on the floor, dead. She had killed herself, but not her enemy. The mineral poison she had hastily dropped into the Champagne glass had not had time to blend itself thoroughly with the wine, when the brides dainty lips just touched its foam; and Cecilia escaped with a swoon, and a few days of sickness. The story was hushed up, as well as such a thing could be, and the general idea was that Sara Hamersley had suddenly gone mad, and swallowed poison. But there were someher former lovei~ was onewho knew only too ~vell how deliberate and how relentless had been her plot of vengeance. ANNE FURNESS. By THE AUTHOR OF MABELS PROGREss, AUNT MARGARETS TROUBLE, VERONIcA, ETC. CHAPTER XVI. I hAD an opportunity of observing Donald better the next morning, as he and grand- father and I strolled round the garden together after breakfast, and of comparing his preeent appearance with my half-effaced remembrance of him as a boy. Donald retained the grave candor of his cx- l)ression, and a mixture of frankness and shy- ness in his smile, and in a certain trick of the eyebrows, which had made his somewhat home- ly face attractive when he was a child. But there were thought and purpose on his forehead now, and reflective earnestness in his eyes, that had come with ripening years. And although his dress was plain almost to rudeness, and his gait careless% and his gestures abrupt, he was unmistakably a gentleman. I use the.word in no high-flown sense of innate honesty and no- bility. I simply mean to express that most subtile and indefinable combination of qualities (consistiub, in Donalds case, neither in ele- gance of attire, nor suavity of demeanor, nor polish of language) which Englishmen recog- nize as conventionally constitm~ting a gentleman. And in saving that Donald was unmistakably a gentleman, I should limit my assertion some- what. For example, it crossed my mind as we were pacing the moss-grown garden paths, that Sam Cudherry, if called on to recognize Donald as a gentleman, would probably decline to do so, on the ground of his rough gray coat and thick boots. To grandfather~s great delight, we found that Donald had retained a very vivid recollection of the garden and the shrubbery, and of all the moving accidents by flood and field which we had enacted there. Jt all looked smaller to him, of course, than he had pictured it in his mind, he said. But, with that exception, the garden of Mortlands was precisely what he had remembered and expected. When our stroll was finished, grandfather withdrew to his study, taking Donald with him, as they had various matters to discuss togethe~, and I said good-by to both of them, for I was. to return to Water-Eardley in good time. Im sorry you must run away, little Nan- cy, said my grandfather. I promised. To be sure, to be sure! I dont mean to urge you to break a promise. Give my love to tour dear mother, and tell her that Donald Avrlie means to come over very soon, and. pay his respects to her. It will be a nice walk for him some fine, crisp morning; so look for him early. Oh, grandfather ! I exclaimed, detaining him by the arm as he was about to turn away, I did not give you the fashionable intelli- gence! Now, little Nancy, this is terrible! Not to give me the fashionable intelligence, when you know it is the pabulumthat sounds very fine, I think; quite like a newspaperthe pabulum of my existence! Yes, I know, I returned, laughing at his solemn face. And, therefore, lest you should he starved outright, I hasten to inform von that 124 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. there is to be a ball at Woolling very shortly. What do you think of that ? He looked as if he thought more of it than I had expected, for his face expressed genuine surprise. A ball at Woolling? At the Cudherrys? What on earth for ? What for? Why, grandfather, even an un- fashionable intelligence understands that a ball is for dancing Oh, ay, ny! And are you going to this ball? I suppose so. But we are not asked yet. How did you hear of it? asked grandfa- ther, quickly. From Mr. Lacer. That gentlemanan of- ficer-a friend of fathers. We met him on the race-course. I have heard of him. have you? Yes. Good-by, my child. God bless thee! Grandfather kissed ihy forehead tenderly, and laid his hand upon my head. There was some- thing which I could not quite define to myself in his facea shade of sadness, and an uneasy questioning look. I thought of it several times on my way home; but I thought of so many other things too, that they finally put that look of grandfathers out of my head. I reached home at such an early hour that there was time for a drive with mother before dinner. My father was not out of his bed. lie had taken to be quite a slu~gard, seldom rising before eleven or twelve oclock. And this, I knew, was a great grief to my mother. But she had long since found remonstrances and petitions unavailing to induce him to return to his former active habits. At first, indeed, he would profess penitence, and promise amend- ment. Then he took to laughing at mother in a kind of superior manner, askin~ her if she sup- posed him to be a little boy in need of a nursery- maid to keep him in order. Finally, he had become irritable on the subject, and curtly de- sired her to hold her tongue, and no~ bother him. I am so glad you have come home early, dear Anne, said my mother, for I was wish- ing to have you as a companion in my drive. I am going to Woolling. We have received an invitation to the ball there. It arrived yestes- day evening. And, as it is a long time since I have paid Mrs. Cudberry a visit, your father said I had better go and take our answer in person. Your father says we must accept the invitation. For my part, I do not expect much gratification from this ball. But I hope you may enjoy it, child. Though, from the usual behavior of the girls to you, I almost fear you may meet with something disagreeable. I dont care a straw for any thing the girls can say or do, mother. So on that score you may be quite easy, I made answer, with quite unnecessary energy. Mother sighed softly as she said, But dont quarrel with them, Anne, if you can possibly avoid it. Remember, child, they are your dear fathers kinsfolk ! Poor mother! it is touching to look back and see how, as my father lost ground in the esteem of those around him, and as his faults grew to such proportions as made it impossible even for her to ignore them, she replaced her old proud and joyful worship of him by a tender pity; how she encompassed him with a yea ruing fondness, and would unhesitatingly have shielded him with the soft, faithful breast against any breath of blame or shaft of unkindness. She was del- icately fearful of resenting even the coarse in- sojence with which it frequently pleased the Cudberrys to treat her, lest it might appear that she was less friendly than formerly with her dear Georges cousins. On our way to Woolling I gave her an ac- count of my grand entertainment to the little Arkwrights, and I informed her of Donalds arrival. She was much pleased to hear of the latter, and said she hoped he would prove an agreeable and useful companion to her dear fa- ther. Mother had taken a great fancy to Don- ald in his childish days, and made me describe him to her as he was now, chatting of him with great interest. Of his personal appearance I found no difficulty in giving a picture. It cer- tainly was not a flattering one. I described him as a blue-eyed, light-haired young man, with plain features, and a figure rather too broad for his height, clothed in a rough coat, and with sun-burnt hands, which looked as if they had been unacquainted with gloves from the cradle. But I did him the justice to add that he would certainly be recognized by gentlefolks as a gen- tleman notwithstanding. For the rest, he was very silent and very shyor, it might be, very stupid. Though, on mothers point-blank ques- tioning me as to whether I thought him stupid, I was obligedto declare that, so far as my ob- servation had enabled me to judge, he appeared sensible enough. We were in the midst of our talk when we arrived at Woolling, and the chaise turned from the village up a lane that led to Mr. Cudberrys honse. I have never seen so altogether incongruous a house. It would have been almost as difficult to assign the proper rank to it as to its owners on a first view. It had neither the dignity of decayed gentility nor the coziness of prosper- ous vulgarity, although there were traits of both one and the other about the building. The house had no distinctive name. On the rare occasions when Uncle Cudherry received a letter it was addressed to Mr. Cudherry, Woolling; and it duly reached its destination. Uncle Cudhnr~y possessed a considerable number of acres, which he farmed himself. He was said to grow the best wheat for miles round, and was proud of that reputation. The farm came up close around the dwelling. There was only ii small strip of garden dividing it in front from the fields. At the back there was a large farm-yard, with barns, and cart-sheds, and pig-sties, bounded by an ocean of turnip fields. The approach to the house was by a ANNE IFURNESS. 125 road which, in truth, deserved no higher title than that of a cart-track. It ran through the open fields, nnd was intersected by no fewer than seven five - barred gates. These gates I were always fastened, to prevent the cattle from straying, and whosoever passed through them was admonished, under pain of divers penalties, to shut them again carefully. Very few things excited so much emotion in Uncle Cudherrys usually phlegmatic nature as the finding a gate left open or imperfectly secured. There were certain seasons when the gates were fastened with huge padlocks; and then any adventurous visitor, who was not easily balked by difficulties, might gain access to the house by climbing over sundry stiles of in- geniously inconvenient construction;. or he might, if he were a bold equestrian, leap his horse over seven five-barred gates in succes- sion. But I never heard of any one attempt- ing this latter exploit. If neither alternative ~uited him, he might simply stay away. And this, indeed, was the course which I think rec- ommended itself most strongly to Mr. Cud- berry. He would triumphantly bring forward this liberty of staying away as a conclusive argument on his side whenever his daughters urged him to. have a new road made from the village of Woolling to the house. Why, lass, he would say, speaking very deliberately, them as cant get over a stile are but lame dogs. Thats all very well, papa, Tilly would an- swer, sharply; but how are people to scram- ble about like monkeys? You know that sec- ond stile beyond the five-acre field is awful. And youve never had it mended! And no- body would like to try getting over it that had any decent clothes on; for corduroy is the only thing to stand that stile, and even tlzat not al- ways. Well, now, look, here, Miss Cudberry; do I ask em to come? No. Very well, let em stay away, then! Thats fair. What have you got to say against that ? And so the new road wasnever made. The cart-track came up to the edge of the garden; the garden was fenced off from the fields by a wire railing; there was a duck-pond a little to the right of the road on the field side of the wire fence, and a weeping-willow drooped over it. This willow was the only tree visible from the front of the house, except some woods on the horizon, so that the outlook over the flat, ~vellcultivated, ugly farm was rather dreary. At the back of the house, beyond the farm- yard, there were bits of pretty rural scenery; deep winding lanes, half hidden by tangled hedgerows, and green uplands, and the tow- ers of a noble mansion rising above the, trees in a neighboring park, and the bright, change- flu river. No part of the house was. of a later date than the middle of the eighteenth centu- ry; some of it was at least a hundred and fifty years older. The ancient portions of the build- ing were the nobler. tri~~ showed traces of wealth, and had been evidently intended for the habitation ef gentlefolks. There was a large stone hall, surrounded by carved oaken settles, on the ground-floor; there was a long low room with mullioned windows, and a ceiling of carved oak like the settles in the hall, and a noble mantel-piece of the same wood, which was look- ed on by judges of the art as a remarkably fine specimen of carvir~g. .~Up stairs there were two or three spacious apartments, with their floors all awry, and queer closets, and a long ram- bling passage that led nowhere, and even a trap-door, giving access to a hiding-place in the thickness of the ancient masonry, wherein tradition said a Romish priest, who acted as a political agent from abroad, had been conceal- ed in the days of Cavalier and Ronudhead. For the Cudberrys of that time had been stanch Royalists, although I ncver heard. that they or any one belonging to them endured much trouble from persecution. Unless, in- deed, it were the Romish priest, who must have felt very uncomfortable, if he ever really. did stow himself away in that stuffy little hid ing-place. The more modern part of the house was very ugly,, and was tacked on to the other in such fashion as in a great ni~asure to destroy the picturesqueness of its elder neighbor. The uew edifice was of brick, the old one of stone. The former had all the peculiarities which dis- tinguish buildings of the same period, and it is needless to observe that these peculiarities are not beautiful. It all looked pinched and flat and mean. But this part of the house alone was inhabited by the family. The flue old stone hall was used as a lumber-room, and I have seen it filled up with wheat sacks, speci- mens of mangel-wurzel, disused harness, gig- whips, store-apples, garden-tools, an old hen- coop, a patent plo~v, and a heap of other hetero- geneous objects. The long low room ~vith the carved mantel-piece was empty and deserted, and its flagged floor, cracked and weather- stained, afforded a varied and interesting prom- enade for many successive broods of chickens, who were occasionally turned in there to keep them out of harms way. The rooms above were occupied by servants, and were very bare, very dreary, and very draughty; for the wind whistled through them at night as though that part of the mansion were a huge Pans pipe on which Boreas performed ghostly strains in a minor key. There was nothing ghostly about the newer part of Mr. Cudherrys house. It was fur- nished, as to the articles bought within the last tea or twelve years, with a combination of cheapness and gaudiness; as to the older, in- herited furniture, with attenuated chairs, and spindle-legged tables, and chilly hors~-hair so- fas, and horrible round mirrors that made one feel sea-sick to look at them, and depressing specimens of worsted embroidery which might have been worked in dust and ashes for all the color that was left on their faded surfaces. 126 HARPERS NEW MONThLY MAGAZINE. Uncle Cudherry was, as his family phrased it, a little close. In other words, he was extremely stingy and avaricious, except as re- garded any expenditure which could conduce to his own immediate and personal gratifica- tion. And as that which gratified him was far from being identical with that which gratified his family, there arose many contests between the young people and the mother on the one side, and Mr. Cudherry solus on the other. It was hopeless to think of vanquishing him in open fight, but he was sometimes outwitted or at least his adversaries thought so. I am inclined to doubt this myself. I believe Uncle Cudherrys tactics to have becu conducted on one simple and invariable principle; namely, to compel his wife and children to undergo the greatest amount of trouble and vexation and weariness, of spirit which he found it possihle to inflict, in order to obtain from him the most trifling concessions. He made them beg and pray and manmuvre for the purchase even of common o1)jects of household use which were as desirable for himself as for them, thinking, in his astuteness, that if t hey expended so much powder and shot on necessaries, they would have the less ammunition wherewith to fight for luxuries. It has taken me a longer time to write all this than it took for the chaise to drive along the cart-track, pass through the gates (happily nnpa4locked), and draw up at the wicket itt the wire fenc.e of the garden. Mother and I alighted, crossed the bright and neat, though formal garden, and were admitted into the house by Daniel of the ruddy locks, whom I judged to have not long come in from agricul- tural pursuits, inasmuch as he carried several pounds weight of rich loamy soil on his shoes, and bore traces of the same on his trowsers and on his hands, and even on his forehead, where there was a streak of mud, apparently left there by the application of his own finger. Daniel grinned until his mouth represented the segment of a circle, and bade us wiilk into the parlor, as we knowed the road ; excusing himself from coming beyond the flagged pas- sage, onthe ground that he was too mucky, and that Miss Cudberry would jaw him if he spoiled the uev carpet. We assured Daniel that it was quite annec- cssary to expose himself to the mysterious perils of being jawed by Miss Cudherry on our ac- count, and so entered Aunt Cudherrys sitting- room unannounced. CHAPTER XVII. I 5AW the other day some gutta-percha dolls, whose faces could be squeezed, by the applica- tion of a thumb and finger, into the most com- ical grimaces. The countenances of those dolls reminded me of Aunt Cudherry. Her face had a sort of India rubber flexibility. The lines in it seemed to be not so much wrinkles as creases, which might give place to other and quite dif- ferent creases when next she moved her face. Her very nose appeared to have no fixed and permanent outline. And yet you would scarce- ly have called Aunt Cudberrys an expressive physiognomy, for it was impossible to discover any connection between its contortions and the subject of her discourse. She would frown portentously in relating the pleasantest matter or widen her mouth, into what on another face would have been a smile, at the moment she was uttering the most wobegone complaints. She wore a front of brown curls, which. was ways a little awry. And she wore a large cap, with bows of satin ribbon stuck all over it; and the cap, too, was a little awry. So was bet collar; so was her apron. She was not untidy, but she had an air of general lopsidedness. The odd thing to me, in Aunt Cudherrys ap- pearance, was a grotesque resemblance she bore to my father. She was his mothers sister, and there was a decided family likeness between her and her handsome nephew, although it would have been difficult to define wherein it consisted. She was sewing in the sittingroom when we entered it, and Tilly and Clemmy were prac- ticing a duet at the piano-forte. I always had a sense of iaapproprioteaess in seeing them play the piano. It appeared to be the last thing in the world they ought to have been doing. I was no musician, and therefore did not presume to be critical on their performances. But mu- sic seemed to me as unbecoming to Tilly Cud- berry as~ a white satin slipper or a wreath of roses would have been to Mrs. Abram!. Why, now, Mrs. George ! exclaimed Aunt Cndberry, putting down her work and rising to receive my mother. She spoke very loud.. If she had not done so~ I think she could not possibly have attracted her daughters atten- tion, for they we~re playing very vigorously. At their mothers exclamation, they ceased their performance, with a final chord whielt reminded me of the crashing fall of a tea-tray laden with cups and saucers. I really think there must have been some wrong notes in it. Nobody could have intended that ear-splitting dissonance! And how are you, my dear? And Anne, too! 1)car mae! Poor things! Sit down now, do! And ho~v is George? Po-o-or George ! Aunt Cudberry said all this in a lamentable tone of voice. There was no special reason for lamentation, but that was her way, and meaht nothing. My mother greeted them all with her usual gentle kindness, and the young ladies left the piano, and, seating themselves near us, plunged into an animated conversa- tion. Just imagine, Anne, screamed Tilly, y our walking in without any body to show you the way! Yotm know if it had been stran- gers, it would have been all the same to Dan- iel. If pa wommid only have a man-servant with a little style about him! But pa is so obstinate. ANNE FURNi~SS. 127 He wouldnt care if we had a bullock towait at their meaning. Very often, no doubt, I guess- table ! ed wrongly, from want of tile necessary insight I scarcely think Uncle Cudberry would like into their point of view. that, said I, laughing. Tillys whoops of laughter had not died away Oh yes, he would. Thats just exactly when Mr. Cudberry came into the sitting-room. what he would like, retorted Tilly, with the lie was a thin, dark-eyed, bald old man, who most vehement earnestness. Thats Mr. Cud- stooped a good deal in his gait. Lie wore a suit berry, of Woolling, all over. There you have of coarse drah-colored cloth, a red worsted scarf him! If it wasnt for us and ma there would round his throat, and leather leggings buttoned be no style at all about the Illace. Not a tinge tightly over his lean limbs. 1-us face was as of it. immovable as his wifes wns the reverse. His Well, Anne, are you coniing to our I)all ? eyes sometimes sparkled when he was angry; asked Clementina. but, beyond the necessary motion of the tnus- Yes, I believe so. Mother came to bring cbs of his mouth when lie spoke, I do not think the answer in person, instead of ~vriting. I ever saw any other indication in his counte- Werent you surprised to hear of it ? said nanec that it was made of flesh and hlood in- Clemmy. But before I could reply filly burst stead of wood. lie spoke in a growling tone, in, Why should she be surprised! What is very slowly, very deliberately, and as though he there astonishing in our. giving a ball, pray? wei~e haunted by a constant suspicion that his But thats so like you, Clementina. I suppose interlocutors wanted to catch him, to eiitanglc Anne Furness expected we should do a little him, to commit him to some rash statement, or, like the rest of the world some day, and move a in short, to get the better of him in one way or little with the times! Weve been moped long another. enough, Clementina, I should think. Anne Fur- Youi sarvant, Mrs. Furness, said Uncle ness is not quite a foolnot quite ! in a tone Cudberry, shaking hands with my mother. which seemed to imply that I was as yet only Yours, Miss Anne. You grow a fine young on the border-land of idiocy. lass, Miss Anne. Tall and straight. Yes. How is Uncle Cudberry? and Henny? and Thats the truth. No mistake about it. Sam ? said I, desiring to change the conversa- Oh,. pa V cried his daughters in chorus. tion. 11ev? Whats wrong with you, Miss Cud- Oh, Henny and Sam are gone over to berry ? Brookfleld. Henny wanted to make some pur- Now, pa! Just as if you didnt know that chases of her milliner. Sam, of course, will nobody says sarvaut. I do wonder that you call on Mr. Lacer. You never kne~v such like to be so vulgar. Why dont you polish friends as Sam and Mr. Lacer have become. yotirself up a hit, pa ? cried Tihly, with ter- Quite chums ! rifle playfulness. 1 use the word terrific ad- Indeed ! visedhy, for when it pleased Tihly to be sportive, Oh dear, yes! Mr. Lacer finds Sam very and to indulge in banter, her voice rose into a agreeablemost -agreeable 1 shriek, of which I despair of conveying an idea. Oh ! Polish! Im polished enough, replied Un- Why, yes, you may suppose so, when yoti dc Cudherry, with great deliberation. Oh think of what Brookfield is. The cotamnonest yes; as to that, Im plenty polished enough. of the common. It dont take much polish, as.I know of, to hook I reflected that if being uncommon were a after the crops. And you can ask any man, sine qud non for gaining Mr. Lacers good opin- woman, or child about the place if they think ion, Sam Cudherry, as far as my limited ex- it ud be easy to do the master. I reckon they perience of the world went, certainly fulfilled know I wasnt born yesterday, Miss Cudherry. that condition. Strange and incredible as it appeared to me, Isnt Mr. Lacer an elegant creature ? said I had often been assured by my father that Aunt Cudherry, turning to me at this poitut. Mr. Cudberry had in his yonthi received as IIdont know. Yes, I think hue is well- good an eduication as was usual with gentlemen mannered. of his daya somewhat better education, in- Oh, my dear, as to manners, hes perfect. deed, than the majority of country squires of Poor thing! And so amusing! But I must his standing. lie had been in London, and send and tell Mr. Cudberry that youure here. lund even been noted there as a spendtlurift. Mrs. George is a great favorite of Mr. Cud- But on coming rather unexpectedly into the berrys. property at Woolhing (for he was not the direct Ohm, ma ! shrieked Tilly, and fell into a fit heir, but inherited on the death of a cousin), a of laughter, the cause whereof was and is en- complete metamorphosis took lilace in his nuan tirely mysterious to me. But this was no new ners and mode of life. The love of money thing. So many of the Cudherry sayings and grew upon him year by year. I-Ic lived in uP doings were so inscrutable to my apprehension most absolute retirement, associating chiefly that I have sometimes thought umy comnitunica- with mere rustic boors. He adopted thei; tions with that family resembled the intercourse habits and their language. But I used some- of a European with some secluded tribe of In- times to fancy that he purposely exaggerated dians. -The most I could do was to guess at his broad, vtmlgar mode of speaking in order to 128 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. mortify his daughters and mock at their aspira- tions after finery. And yet, with queer in consistency, he was proud of them, and shared their conviction that the Cudberrys of ~T001 . hug were people of very great importance and consideration. It was with some idea, I hn- agine, of teasing Tilly in particular that Uncle Cudherry made a point of complimenting and praising me whenever he saw me. Especially he would remark on my height, as contrasted with his daughters small stature. There was only one person to whom I ever saw Uncle Cudberry show a glimmering of courtesy, and that person was my mother. Occasionally in his manner toward her might be discerned some dim traces of the gentleman he had once been. And notwithstanding Tillys peals of derisive laughter, I believe Aunt Cudherry was right when she said that Mrs. George~~ was a great favorite with her husband. Before our visit came to. an end Daniel en- tered the room, bearing a tray with two decant- ers on it, a piece of cake, an4 several ivine- glasses. The decanters contained, I knew, cowslip and raisin wine, respectively. . No more expensive vintage was ever given to vis- itors to Woolling in the daytime. Of course the ceremony of offering ~vine might have been omitted altogether; but this would have been a departure from a custom which Aunt Cud- berry looked npon as quite indispensable in a genteel household. Daniel had removed in some way a portion of the loam from his trowsers. He had changed his boots, and put on a black coat, which I rec- ognized from its cut as having helonged to Sam Cudherry, and which was so much too narrow for Daniels broad, howed shoulders, that he looked as if he were pinioned in it. The smudge of mud remained conspicuously on his fore- head; hut he grinned round at us, complacent- ly unconscious of, or philosophically indifferent to, this drawback to his personal appearance. White ~vine or red, Anne ? said Aunt Cud berry, when it came to my turn to be helped. Cow I began, inadvertently, but I checked myself, and answered, white, please; Aunt Cudherry. It was a point of honor at Woolling not to call the sweet home-made liquor by its real name. White or red might equally apply to port and sherry, and Aunt Cudherry found some comfort in the ambiguity of the phrase, although we all knew perfectly well what the wine was, andshe knew that we knew it. Has George heen having any dealings with old Green the coach-maker, do ye know, Mrs. Furness ? asked Mr. Cudherry, abruptly, of my mother. Dealings? Mr. Green sold him a pony- chaise. And Mr. Greens grandson came to Water-Eardley to see about repairing it. I know of no other dealings that George has had with him. I felt guiltily conscious, and my face burned as I listened. Mother did not know then of the money transactions I had heard discussed between Mat Kitchen and my father. Ah, well, thats better than -IL thought. Why? What do you mean ? Mother turned very pale as she pnt the ques- tion, and looked imploringly into Mr. Cud.. berrys hard face. What I means neither here nor there. But dont you distress yourself, Mrs. Furness. Old Green has the name of being hard and sharp. Hes a cunning man, and knows how to put two and two together and make five of em stead o four. But on market-days in Horsingham I sometimes hear a bit of gossip. And they say that the young chap, this Mat Kitchen, is quite as sharp and twice as hard as his grandfather, and that hes getting all the old mans private business into his ownhands. What business ? asked my mother, inno- cently. Has he any other business besides coach-making ? Money-lending, replied Mr. C.udberrv, nodding his head once emphatically. And you just tell George to steer clear of the family party. I havent brought my own pigs to such a bad market, but what Ive a right to offer my wifes nephew a bit of advice. Not, he add- ed, touching my mothers sleeve twice or thrice with the back of his forefingerquite an ani- mated gesture for him ! not as Ive any thing 6ut advice to offer him, you understand! My mother would not for the world have shown any uneasiness before the Cudberrvs which might have led them to reflect upon or in any way blame her husband.. But she was very thoughtful and silent as we were driving home again. And after a long meditation, she said to me, Anne, I am very glad, after all, that your grandfatherand my husband, for it was quite as much Georges doing as your grandfathers, you must always remember that, child !I am glad, I say, that they insisted on my little fortune being settled on me and my children. It will he at least a provision for you, in case One never knows i~hat may happen! CHAPTER XVIII. TImE ball at Woolling was to take place in a fortnight from the day on which we paid our visit to Aunt Cudberry. During this interval we saw Mr. Lacer rather frequently. My fa- ther always made hin~ welcome, and appeared to have taken a quite extraordinary fancy to him. Mother, on the whole, was pleased that it should be so; for Mr. Lacer had made great progress in her good graces also, and, indeed, had become more intimate with the whole fam- ily than the length of our acquaintance with him would have seemed to warrant. But, as he said, friendship can not be measured by time; and several circumstances concurred to give him an almost confidential footing among us. The first of these circumstances, however, was one ANNE FURNESS. l2l~ which might have produced a quite contrary effect. I have mentioned Flowers propensity to drinking, lie always contrived to do his sta- ble-work to my fathers satisfaction, hut in the evening among his fellow-servants he indulged himself in drinking and talking until, they said, he became almost unendurable. Sometimes one or two of the farm people would drop in, on one excuse or another, to smoke and drin~k beer in the kitchen. It was a practice which my mother strongly disapproved of; but her authority was not sufficient to put a stop to it, and it was impossible to get my father to inter- fere in any domestic matters. He let things go as they would more and more every day. On one of these convivial occasions, being half stupefied with tobacco, and more than half drunk with beer, Flower proceeded to abuse the masters new friend, Mr. Lacer, in no measured terms. The cook reported the con- versation to my mother, dwelling minutely on every insolent and vituperative word Flower had used with that curious passionfor the pain- ful, mental or physical, which is so often found in persons of her class. One specific charge which it pleased Flower to bring was, that While he had been employed in the training stables of Lord B , Mr. Lacer had been caught play- ing the spy on those sacred precincts, for the purpose of sending information to London which would influence the betting on an ap- proaching race; that he had been detected in trying to bribe a stable-helper to betray some of the secrets of his employers establishment; that lie had narrowly escaped being ducked un- der the pump by Lord B s express orders; and that he (Mr. Lacer) had made the most strenuous efforts to hush up the whole affair, in- asmuchi as it, together with sundry other trans- actions of a disgraceful nature, with which Flower professed to be acquainted, would, if published, have ruined hini with his command- ing officer, and perhaps have obliged him to leave the army. This miserable kitchen s~andal distressed my mother intensely. She repeated it to my father in my presence, alid with a vehemence most unusual with her. My father was also a good deal disturbed by the matter, although less soalas! far less so! than he would have been some yea~rs ago. At first he had recourse to scolding mother for having given ear to servants tittle-tattle, and was very lofty with her. But mother, to my great astonishment, and I think to his, main- tained her point with extraordinary firmness. She made him observe that this odious story was not mere vague calumny; that it was a spe- cific and distinct charge, to which the servants and one or two farm laborers had been wlt- nesses; and that it could not and should not be passed over in silence. My father was sin- gularly averse to risking a quarrel with Flower. The man exercised a sort of fascination over him, as it seemed to us; for my father, although Voa, XLILNo. 24T. 9 a kind master, had too fiery a temper tamely to pass over misconduct in his servants in geDeral. But the spell which Flower exercised was a very simple one, as we saw and acknowledged later. It derived its power from poor fathers besetting infatuation, lie had been ~onvinced by some means that Flower could give him val- uable information about race-horses, their train- ers, bwners, and riders. Nay, he had once been heard advising my father to go shares in the purchase of a yearling colt out of some famous stable, which animal was safe to win a pot of money, if properly placed, and the thing kept quiet. Poor mother was in mortal terror of this yearling colt for a long time. Rut father laughed at her, and said, where was he to find money to buy race-horses? And the matter finally dropped. To return, however, to Flowers charge against Mr. Lacer. So firm wa~ mother in in- sisting on the matter being sifted, an.d so evi~ dent was it that she was entirely iss the right, that my father, who had not lost all his old man- liness of heart and his hatred of that which was base and lying and cowardly, gave her his sol- emn assurance that he would tax Flower with having made this odious accusation, an.d would, if need were, dis~tharge the fellow from his serv- ice at a minutes warning. The following day Mr. Lacer called. It was in the afternoon,getting on toward dusk. Fa- ther was out. We had not seen him since our early dinner, and as he only rose that day in time to get down to the dining-room just as the dinner was being put on the table, and went out directly the meal was over, there. had been lit- tle opportunity for conversation. Mr. Lacer walked into the small sitting-room, which mo- ther and I chiefly inhabited, and greeted us both as usual. My mother could not feign. There was a constraint in her manner which Mr.. La- cer peiceived at once, and to our great surprise he at once entered on the subject we had been discussing the previous evening. I have been assisting at a rather stormy intervi.ev, Mrs. Furisess, said he. I rode round by the stable-yard, and there I found your husband in a towering rage, and Flower in a very trembling and abject condition. And to be frankI know all about the head and front of his offending. My mother turned a startled glance on him. Then she said, l Do you know it, Mr. Lacer? May I ask from whom ? From Furness. lie told me himself. There was a silence. I thought Mr. Lacer had acted very wrongly in coming to say this to my mother. He should have waited. Under the circumstances, there was a great want of delicacy in his intrusion into her presence. But his next words altered my judgment a little. Mrs. Furness, he said, speaking in some agitation, II hope youll forgive me; I do indeed. But I could not endure to be unGler your dislileasure. And what an opinion you 130 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. must have had of me if you believed But I hope you have some confidence in me! I hope you did not give me np on the words of a drunken fool My mother trembled a good deal. her cour- age and flerve had been tried too much of late. I crossed the room to her, and seating myself near her, took her hand.. After a moment or so she answered, with a firm spirit, alth6ugh ~vitli a quivering voice, All this is very pain- ful to me, Mr. Lacer. You must know that it is so. I do not wish to think evil of aivv one. You have been very kind and friendlybut Dear Mrs. Furness, he broke .in, eagerly, I ought to have told you at first! Flower penitently retracts every word. Of course he does! That seemed to me so much a matter of course that I did not think of beginning by saying so! Mother held out her hand, which Mr. Lacer took and, raised to his lips. This bit of gal- lantry made her shyly withdraw her hand, and color like a girl. It was, indeed, rather too high-flown for the occasion; but Mr. Lacer had an impulsive, almost boyish way with him at times, which made one pardon a little exagger- ation of manner. How deeply I regret, said mother, and how deeply George ~vill regret, that any friend ~ of ours should have been exposed to such an offense from our servant! What an infamous, dangerous creature ! I fear you have taken the matter to heart more than was needful, Mrs. Furness, said Mr. Lacer. It seems to me that that was hardly possi- ble, said I. To ii~ it was no light thing either that an inmate of our household should be a vile calumniator,. or that a person received on friendly terms by my father should hewhat you must have been if Flower spoke truly. I had not broken silence before; but I was chafed by Mr. Lacers way of treating the affair. You speak rather severely, Miss Furness. have I offended you ?~ You are not half angry enough with Flow- er, I replied, bluntly. Anne ! exclaimed my mother, with gentle reproof. I was angry enough, I assure you, at first; but. really the thing was so absurd, so wild! And the man was drunk, quite drunk. lie de- clares he has no recollection ~t all of what he said last night. Thank Heaven, this will rid us of him exclaimed my mother, with a slight gesture of her hand, as of one pushing aside a hateful object. Rid you? Oh, Iperhaps I did wrong, but the fellow begged and prayed so for forgive- ness, and Furness seemed loth to part with him, andI put in a word for, him to induce his master to look over the offense this once, on the understanding that the very next time he is seen to be drunk he is turned off without Wages or warning. Mother fell back in her chair. Keep him! she cried. My husband means to keep him! Impossible! Do you so strongly object to the man, Mrs. Furness? I had no idea Most strongly do I object to him. I have reasons fot doing so. I am not actuated by prejudice. He is a dangerous, dangerous man! I would give any thing to see him fairly away f~om my house. Upon thisMr. Lacer spoke more unreserved- ly than he had hitherto done about my fathers growing infatuation for betting. lie had seen, he said, that it distressed my mother, and had seen it with sincere sympathy. As . far as in him layof course, his power was ~ery limited; he was so much younger than my fittber, had no claim of old acquaintance, and so forth he had tried to stand between my father nn(l temptation of that sort. He thought, if he might venture to advise, that mother was wrong in her desire to get rid of Flower. The man was not pleasant, nor sober, nor honest in speech. But be had the rare honesty in a groom of not cheating in his stable. That was a great point; because Furnessmother would forgive him for saying sowas a little careless and easy-going, did not look into things very closely, and might be robbed right and left by a groom who chose to rob him. Then, as to the other point, Flowers con~mection with the turt and his influence over his master, Mr. Lacer must say this. Flower really did know some- thing of the matter. His advice would be sound, in all likelihood, and, based on experi- ence. Of course it might be betterwell, lie would say it certainly would be betterif Fur- ness cut the whole thing. But was that likely at present? And if it were not likely, Would he not run the risk in losing Flower of finding some one tea times worse? It is very generous and forgiving on your part to say all this, said my mother, thought- fully. Well, answered Mr. Lacer, with his frank bright laugh that fidshed all over his face, I am emboldened to speak freely, you see, be- cause I know you are not likely to suspect me of any undue partiality for my friend Flower. I wonder, said I, why he selected you as the object of his slanders! Had you given him any offense ? None that I know of. But it really is use- less to reason about the matter. The fellow was drunk, and I suppose that be Was in a quarrelsome, malicious mood, and confused me, in his stupid head, with some rascal of his ac quaintance. I dare say the story he told was true enough, only applied to the wrong person. Dont think any more about it, Miss Furness. But both mother and I did think about it, and speak about it. After Mr. Lacer bad taken his leave we sat over the fire, in the dark, and talked and talked for an hour. I do think Mr. Lacer has behaved so well said my. mother. ANNE FURNESS. 131 Yyes. You dont seem to agree with me, Anne. I think he .has behaved as he thought well and kindly; but I doubt his being right. If father is persuaded to keep Flower just because lie iidgkt get a worse man in his place, that is doing evil that good may come of it, instead of simply doing right at all hazards. Mother sighed. And, after a little pause, she said: I am not sure, Anne, that your fa- ther would in any case have got iid of Flower when once hi~ first anger was over, and the man had begged pardon. I felt this to be so likely that I was silent. And then you know, child, proceeded mo- ther, it may be that you and I fed this thing to be more dreadful and shocking than gentle- men do. You see Mr. Lacer treated it lightly. Men brought up like Flower can not be expect- ed to have ~ high- standard of morals. We know so little of the world, Anne So Flower remained at Water~Eardley, and the above-narrated circumstance operated, as I have said, to put Mr. Lacer on a footing of in- timacy with us all. Mother would never have given her confidence to any one who had sternly disapproved her husbands conduct. But this Mr. Lacer was far from doing. - He contrived to praise myfathers generous, hearty, trusting nature, even while lamenting his failings. One day he and my father ~vent off together to a match that took place about twenty miles from us. I fancy it was a trotting match be- tween two ponies belonging to some London men. At all events the creatures ian in our country, and w era heavily backed, as they phrased it.. Father came hack in high spirits. lie had won largely, he said; and in the- next instant he frowned impatiently, and asked mo- ther why she looked so lackadaisical ~vhat was the matter? She couldnt have put on a more wobegone countenance if he had lost! It made my heart burn within me to see her pite- ous little smile, and her attempt to treat the rough words as a good-humored jest. Her sweet gentleness softened fathers mood, and he came and took her hand and looked into her face and said: Lucy, I do believe you are an angel. The touch of kindness was more than she could bearshe who was so brave to sufferand she put her head down on his shoulder and burst into tears; and I ran away and cried to myself in a tumult of pity and indignation. The next time Mr. Lacer came to sea us mo- ther took an opportunity, when my father was out of the roosh, to say to him in her simple, s~veet way that she felt a little uneasy at his accompanying father so much to these different races and matches. You are younger than George, Mr~ Lacer; and if he were the means, thoughtlessly, of leading you into temptation, it would hurt meit would hurt usso much. Mr. Lacer fiushed~rimson, andlooked for an instant as if he had scarcely understood her. You mustnt be angry with me, mother went on. You speak of standing between George and temptation, of dissuading him from this and that; but take care that you dont get a taste for gambling y6urself. Those kinds of people are very cunning. I scarcely think you can be a match for them. How should you F And then she gave him a little sermon. The words were commonplace enough, I dare say; but her sweetness and sincerity gave them value. Mr. Lacer repeated fathers words. You are an angel, Mrs. Furness, said he. If I had had a mother like you! But my own mother died when I was little more than a baby. If I could keep Furness straight and square I would, on my soul I would; and dont be afraid for me. I am up to most of their dodges; so much the worse for me, youll say!. Well, I was left to scramble up as I could when my father married again, and I fell into bad hands. I lived in the stables almost. I got into scrapes that Im ashamed to think of now. My father paid some debts of honor for me once, against his wifes wishMrs. Lacer loves money better than any thing in the world audhe told me that it was the last farthing, over a~d above my allowance, that I had to ex- pect from him. I ~vas a boy of seventeen at the time, and I have, never asked my father for money since. 1 wish I could forget all those bad times; but I cant undo the past. It is not all my fault, is it? You see I am candid. I think you can feel for me. He spoke with so much feeling that we were quite moved, lie easily showed emotion. The team~s were brimming up in his eyes at that very moment. Mother did not think the worse of. him for that. It was the day before the great Woolling ball;. Mr. Lacer staid to have tea with us, and we sat round the fireand chatted about the mor- rows .great event. Father did not scruple to quiz the whole thing, and Mr. Lacer ventured on a few mild jokes about his awe of Miss Cud- berry which made us laugh. I was seated near- est to the table, and an idle impulse prompted me to lOok at a sporting paper which lay on it. My father received it regularly, and it had come to be almost the only printed thing he ever read. It was not the sort of literature to tempt me naturally; but as it lay there at my elbow I began idly to glance over its columns. This cursory perusal suggested several reflec- tions which I had the discretion to keep to my- salt. But all at once my eye lighted on the following advertisement: Confederate wanted (a gendernaulilce person indispensable), with cap- ital, to join the advertiser in carrying out a great thing. Plenty of amusement, combined with profit, for an amateur of racing. No turf ha- bitu~s need apply, as the COUJ) must emanate from an unsuspected quarter. Address, Hic at Ubique, Post-Office, Brookfield. What an extraordinary advertisement! I tried, what can it mean? and I began to read it aloud. Father jumped up in a passion, and snatched the paper from my hand. ~ Thats 182 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. not reading for young ladies ! said he, angrily. Youd best stick to your German and Latin (this with a sneer which he always put on in speaking of my poor little attempts at learning). I dont pay for your education in order that you may read such things as that I ChAPTER XIX. I HOPE I shall have no reader who will he shocked at the fact, butthe truth must he toldthe ball at Woolling began at half past seven o clock, P.M. It was dark at that hour, being winter-time. But it is useless to dis- guise that we arrived at Uncle Cudherrys at a little after eight, and were among the fash- ionably late arrivals. The night was dry; but there was no moon, and we jolted along in the darkness over the deep, frozen ruts in the cart~ track that. led through the fields. A great stable-lantern hirng on the wicket in the garden fence, so that we were able to pick our way across the garden into the house. At the sound of our wheels two or three dogs began to bark, and a shock-headed boy ran out to take the horse. Can you put him up, Jack ? said my father. Flower looked about him su- perciliously, but said nothing. He had been a trifle less openly insolent since the affair of Mr. Lacer. Yes; the horse could he pnt up, Jack .-.~/said. Some on em was at the Half-Moon in Woolling, and some on em at IFarmer Batts; but the master had given ordersas Mr. Georges beast were to be put in the stable, and his man were to have summut to drink. Jack empha- sized this communication in a manner which gave me to understand how deeply he was im- pressed by his masters exceptional hospitality to Mr. George. I do not think that father appreciated it as any peculiar favor. We went into the house, and were shown into a bedroom, to take our hoods and cloaks off. I was surprised and disappointed to find no more preparation for this great occasion. Every thing looked much as usual. I could not define what I had expected, hut I had thought that in some way or other the house would have worn amore festive aspect. There were two candles blinking on the toilet-table, which only . seemed to make the dark mirror darker; and there was a woman-servant stand- ing in one corner of the room with a scared, sulky face. We took off our wrappings .with- out much assistabee from this damsel, and descended to the ground-floor. Father was awaiting us at the door of the long sitting- room. We heard the tinkling of a piano from within, and entered just as a qtiadrille came to an end. The door was flung open f6r us by Daniel, who presented~ a curious spectacle in his livery coat. He had a large white cravat wound round his throat, and I shall never forget the effect of his ruddy face and his ruddy locks rising above it. His hands were concealed by white cotton gloves of such enormous dimen- sions that they looked like the colossal ~ooden hands which may sometimes be seen swinging as a sign over a hosiers shop.. The long, low room was but dimly lighted, considering the occasion. Candles were. distributed here and there on little side-tables, and on the man- tel-piece, and on the piano. r1~hev were not very large candles, for their size had t,o be ac- commodated to that of the tall, old-fashioned silver candlesticks drawn forth for the occasion from their swathings of wash-leather; and these candle~ticks looked as if they had wasted away with years. There were so many people in the. room already that it looked quite full, as those who had been danciug in the quadrille con- tinned to move about the floor. We looked for Aunt Cudherry, hut did not see her; and very shortly. Tilly caught sight of u~ and advanced to receive us. Her first words, uttered in her customavy piei~cing tones, were these Im doing the honors. Ma isnt equal to it. How do you do, Cousin George? How do you do, Mrs. George? Well, you and Anne are the two extremes! Black velvet and white mus- lin! Never mind. You sit do~vn there, Mrs. George, among the dowagers. I suppose you dont mean to dance ! Tilly had a pink silk dress on. It was rather short in front, and displayed her feet when she walked; when she danced it permitted a view of her ankles. She wore a bushy wreath of artificial flowers round her head of a deeper pink than her gown. I do not know what natural flower they were meant to represent. I have never seen any so large, except hollyhocks. But I suppose they could not have been intended for holly- hocks. Henny and Cletumy wore blue and yel- low respectively. Each had a wreath. Clem- my, who was the smallest of the three sisters, appeared almost smothered beneath some white species of shrub. There were branches of it on her breast, and on her sleeves, and on her skirt. She rustled and crackled when she moved, and was constafitly entangling herself in the other womens gowns. I had wondered a good deal what sort of people they would be whom we should find at the ball. I did not know many of our Cousin Cudherrys acquaintance. I think the company would have been considered a rather odd assemblage by most persons. There were Mr. and Mrs. Batt& a neighboring farmer and his wife. Mrs. Batt wore a satin gown and a turban, and looked unspeakably wretched. (The majority of the guests looked that, though.) There were Sir Peter and Lady Bunny seated in state on the sofa; and struggling between their own desire to be sociable and good-hu- mored, and their entertainers determination to show them off and exalt them, for the glory of the Cudherry family and the humiliation of the rest of the company. There were the dcc- tor of W~olliug and his wife and J~is wifes, sis- ter. The doctor was very vivacious, and said to every one whom became near, Well! hab, ANI~1E FURNESS. 133 Sir ! or Hab, maam! This is a lively scene. Great exhilaration of the animal spirits, hey ? Mes. Hamper. (that was the name of the doe- torswife) and her sister appeared to be in no danger of overexciting tftemselves. They sat side byside ia one corner of the room behind the piano, and glared with gloomy impartiality upon every one. Mrs~ Hamper had Low-Chnrch tendencies, and was supposed to think dancing sinful. I wonder she came ! said I to Tilly, who imparted this piece of information in my ear. Oh, my dear! Came? Of course she came. When a Hamper is invited by a Cud- berryof Woolling, you dont suppdse a Hamper would stay away, do you ? Besides the above-mentioned guests, there was the family of a rich cloth-weaver, and the family of a poor clergyman, who received pu- pils in his house.. And there were some of the said pupils, looking a good deal bewildered, I thought, and dancing meekly with the Misses Cudherry, who coolly handed them over from one to another in this fashion: Oh, you havent danced with Miss Cudherry yet, have you? Or was it your friend who sat out? Ah, well then, you can dance with my sister Clementina next time. Miss Cudherry comes first. That is our rule. Or, I think were all engaged for this dance. Ill get you a partner. The young lady in green? No: youd better ask Miss Jolly this time. We shouldnt like Miss Jolly to feel herself neglected. Miss Jolly was the cloth- weavers eldest daughtera very large and pow- erfal young woman, who bore down upon the other waltzers like a man-of-war among a fleet of cock-boats, and whirled her partners out of breath in no time. I managed to seat myself near Barbara Bun- ny,. who was looking on at the proceedings with her placid blue eyes rather wider open than usual. Aint they rather strange people, Anne ? she whispered to me. Who ? said I. Oh, almost all of them. That stout old lady in the red gown that looks like bed-cur- tainspointing toward a certain Mrs. Ilodge- kinson, whose husband I knew to be a rich farmer, brewer, banker, and land-owner, at a village about five miles from Woolling asked me all on a sudden if I liked going out to par- ties; and when I said yes, she told tue size didnt. And she thought the best plan was for every body to stay in their own houses, and eat what theyd got! And her sonthats her son with the ruby studs, and the kind of flounce on his shirt-frontasked me to dance with him, and offered me a peppermint lozenge in the middle of the Lancers. Barbaras voice was almost plaintive as she narrated these experiences, and the contrast of her serious tone with the absurdity of that which she was saying, set me off into a fit of irrepress- ible laughter. It is delightful to see you so merry! said a voice very near me. I turned, and saw Mr. Lacer and Sam Cudherry standing behind my chair. It was the fornier who had spoken. Oh,Mr Lacer; exclaimed Barbara, just like. a child, I nra so glad to see you ! I could almost have echoed the exclamation myself. Mr. Lacers presence in that company was truly welcome. One felt at least safe with him. As to the others, there was no antici- pating what they would say or do next. Mr. Lacer made Barbara a very low bow, and pro- fessed himself overwhelmed by her kindness. But it was not difficult to see, by the twinkle in his eye, and the smile that flashed for a moment over his face, that he was not vain enough to put down Miss Bunnys delight at seeing him entirely to the score of his personal merits. At this moment Clementina struck. up a waltz tune on the piano. There was no pro- fessiourd musician engaged. The performance of the music was divided among such of the ladies as could and would play. And the va- rieties of rhythm thus obtained were very re- markable. Is this a ~valtz ? asked Mr. Lacer, doubt- fully. Oh no ! screeched Tilly Cudberry, bus- tling up to us. Its the Portuguese. Dont you know the Portuguese ? She turned to Barbara as she ~spoke, and Mr. tacer seized the opportunity to whisper to me, hastily, Will von dance this with me, whatever it is? Do, please, Miss Furness ! I bowed, without daring to raise my eyes for fear J should larigh. I was just in the mood when the slightest touch would have, overbalanced my gravity, and dis- graced me forever in the eyes of my cousins. I dont know the Portuguese, said Bar- bara, timidly. Oh, you must learn! Sam will be delight-, ed to teach you. Sam, give Miss Bnnny your arm, and take her top couple but two. Henny and I dance first and second couple. Barbara was led off to her fate unresistingly. Then Tilly turned to Mr. Lacer. Now, Mr. Lacer, said she, with a little asperity. Come! You know the Icrtugues~! Mr. Lacer protested that he had been fa- miliar with it from boyhood. Miss Cudberry waited, standing opposite to him with some- what the air of a street constable, who has de- sired a refractory apple-vendor to move on. Miss Furness is going todo me the honor of dancing it with me, added Mr. Lacer, in- trepidly. Anne? Why, goodness! Anne dont know it. I am about to have the pleasure of teach- ing it to her, said Mr. Lacer; and he led me to the bottom of the double line that was being formed down the room. Tilly remained staring after us. I was by no means sure that she would not even then seize Mr. Lacer by force, and drag him to the top of the room; it was so entirely against. the rules and regulations at Woolliag for a gentleman to dance first with any one hut Miss Cudherry! However, Tilly pressed Mr. hamper, the doctor, mb the serv 184 HARPEI4S NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ice, and taking her place with him for her partner, gave the signal for the dance to be. gin. I never have seen the Portnguese any where but at Uncle Cudbertys. The girls had learned it long ago at schools and I think it must have been the exclusive property of their dancing-master, and his own invention into the bargain. But with their habitual way of ignor- ing that that which was familiar to them might not be so to the rest of the world, the Misses Cudberry assumed that every one knew the Portuguese, and insisted that it should be per- formed. It was the dreariest dance in the world. You advanced and retreated, and took hands, and went round and round monotonous- ly to an old-fashioned waltz tune played very slowly. Tilly and Henny, who were proud of their dancing, did elaborate steps, and ap- l)eared to enjoy it. But tile people who couldnt do steps cut a very awkward figure, and gloom was depicted on their faces. Miss Jolly had got the youngest and meek- est of the pupils in tow, and was bearing down powerfully on the other danc.ers with that weak craft in her wake, when she went round and round with him, her petticoats making a kind of maelstrom into which small or unwary persons were continually being, as it were, attracted by an irresistible power. Twice I saw Clemen- tina Cudherry engulfedbowery branches and allin the vol~uminous folds of Miss Jollys thick corded silk gown, that went flap, flap, flap, like the main-sail of a ship. I dont be- lieve Miss Jolly was aware of Cleinmy, until some by-standers stepped forward to extricate her. And had it not been for that circum- stance I have no doubt Miss Jolly would have swept on through the mazes of the Portuguese with no more embarrassment or difficulty than if Clemmy had been a bramble clinging to her skirt. I had been in a laughing mood all the early part of the evening, but the influence of the Portuguese would have depressed Puck him- self! By the time we went in to supper. every one looked exhausted. Poor mother had been wedged in between Mrs. Hod~ekinson and Mrs. Batt, and had had to listen to their conversa- tion for three mortal hours. The two ladies had a standing feud which had lasted so long that I believe the original subject of it had been forgotten. Howev?r, that did not prevent them from sparring at each other with great vindictiveness whenever they met. They talk- ed to my mother and at each other; occasion- ally sending a shot direct to the enemy, and blazing away very fiercely. I conjectured that they found some enjoyment in these hostilities. Certainly nothing would have keen easier than for either party to get up and walk away from the other. But they remained in juxtaposition all the evening. Mr. Cudberry achieved the distinction of, for once, uniting the combatants and mortally of. fending both of them, by coming up to oWer my mother hjs arm to lead her to supper, and saying audibly as he did so, Why didnt some o the girls look after you, stead of leaving you to be a shuttle-cock betwixt them two tough old battle-dores? 211 reckon youll have had a bad time of it, Mms. George At supper appeared Aunt Cudberry~ whom I had scarcely caught aglimpse of before. ~he put one in mind of a childs drawing on a slate, she was so very much awry, and looked so oddly out of the perpendicular. She really did re- semble a fancy portrait of a lady I had seen ex- ecuted by one of the little Arkwrights. She wore a plum-colored satin gown, and a cap with roses in it. And she had a very large lace col- lar on that came down half-way over her chest, and was fastened by a brooch containing a da- guerreotype portrait of her son. Poor Aunt Cudherry! She had been toiling in the kitch- en ~vith her plum-colored satin skirt pinn~ed up, and made her appearance at the head of the table with a hot, red face, but still smiling with gutta-percha flexibility. rrhe supper, as the Cudherrys boasted, had been entirely prepared at home. There were a roast turkey, and a couple of pairs of fowis~ and a piece of beef, and a ham. And these were all very good fare in themselves; but they were spoiled by an extraordinary taste like the smell of new furniture, that pervaded them all more or less. It was some time before I could guess at the cause of this strange circumstance ; but when I turned my eyes on the sweets I fan- cied I had discovered it. Atfat Cudherry, from motives of economy or convenience, had evi- dently purchased a quantity of gelatine for the preparation of her jellies, and so forth. There was gelatine in all forms and of all colors of the rainbow; but, alas! these varieties were strictly and solely external, for every sweet dish on the table tasted like all the others, and a subtile stickiness had communicated itself to all the edibles. I believe the cook must have glazed the turkey and the fowls and the beef with gelatine. Miss Jollys brother, whose manners were not polished, and who was con- sidered a wag in his own family, whispered to Barbara Bunny, Glue, by jingo! and made grimaces, as though his tongue were stuck to his mouth, after swallowing a spoonful of jelly, which dreadfully disconcerted poor Barbara. The young gentleman with the ruby studs, and the flounce on his shirt-front, ate nothing after the first mouthful or so. Perhaps he had tak- en away his appetite with peppermint lozenges; but he drank glass after glass of wine, and my attention was attracted to him as he sat oppo- site to me by seeing his mother, Mrs. lodge- kinson, stretch forth her arm and remove the decanter from his reach, and when he remon- strated she said, quite savagely, No, William, you dont. Its no better than poison. British port, indeed! Ikuow it. It is to be feared that the Cudberry lmospi- tality did not convert Mrs. Hodgekinson from her un~ociable theory that it was best for folks EDITORS EASY CHAIR. 135 to stay in their own houses and eat what theyve got! When we returned to the dancing-room, I offered to play a waltz for Tilly. My musical skill was extremely small, but it sufficed for that. Itly received my offer very ungracious- ly, but did not hesitate to accept it. As I sat at the piano-forte running my fingers over the keys, an~ waiting until the dancers should be ready, I unwillingly overheard. a little family quarrel between rrilly and Henny Cudherry and their brother. The subjectof it was Mr. Lacer. Tilly was furiously indignant at ~vhat she termed his neglect of her. Sam, who was willing to support the family dignity so far as it was com- fortable and convenient to himself to do so, but not one inch farther, bluntly told her she was a fool, and that he was not going to have his friend set against him by her nonsense. Hen- ny sided with her sister. There was a sharp altercation. You must give him to under- stand, Sam, said Tilly, bridling and shaking her head till the hollyhocks quivered again, that the person to he attended to here is Miss Cudherry. He hasnt asked m~ to dance once. Its shameful. Well, I suppose he dont ~vant to. Is it my fault? You should make yourself more agreeable. I think, Sam, observed ilenny, waspish- ly, that you might stand up for your own fam- ily. I always did suppose that the Miss Cud- berrys of Woolling were somebody. Oh, blow it! I aint a-going to quarrel with Lacer, and so I tell you. Hes promised to introduce me to ever such tip-toPpers in his regiment. If I was to say, Please would you be so kind as dance with my sister? hed laugh at me, wouldnt he? You want to make a fel- low look like a fool. And if he likes dancing with somebody else better than you, its no good trying to bully him out of it. Added to which. continued Sam, with much candor, I dont believe hed stand it I felt very uncomfortable during my invol- untary eaves - dropping, and played away as loud as I could; but it ~vas not easy to drown the Cudherry voices. Later I observed Mr~ Lacer dancing with Clefuentina, and afterward with Henny; but I knew that would not suffice to appease Mhs Cudberry. Indeed, when I considered within myself what amount of enjoyment had been de- rived by any one from this so much anticipated ball,it~ seemed to me to be distressingly little. Mrs. Batt was in a confirmed state oftiff the ~vhole evening. Mrs. Ilodgekinsons maternal breast was distracted by apprehensions as to the results of the British port on the constitu- tion of her only son, besides being in a glow or smoulder of indignation at not having been taken in to supper by the host.. Mrs. Haniper and her sister appeared to be a prey to the profoundest gloom. Aunt Cudherry was tired and worried. The clergymans pupils, front being simply meek and tractable, had sunk into a condition of exhausted imbecilitydue per- haps partly to the port, but also in a great measure to the Portuguese! In brief, the only persons who did not exhihit signs of more or less severe suffering were Uncle Cudherry and Miss Jolly. The former ~vas as undemon- strative as the figure-head of a ship. The lat- ter was blessed with marvelous vigor both of body and spirit. Mr. Lacer gave me his arm to conduct me across the garden when we went away, and as we followed my parents toward the carriage he whispered, with a sigh, By Jove that was severe, Miss ~urness! You look quite done up. I am rathe,r tired. I nun ashamed to say that I am, but it is the truth. Theres something peculiarly ex- hausting about the atmosphere of that house, I do believe. Not for everybody, it seems. Look there. He turned in the direction to whh~h I point- ed, and we saw flitting at regular intervals across the window-blind a colossal shadow, ac- companied by a smaller one. It was Miss Jol- ly performing a final polka with one of the pupils. THE letter of Vice-President Colfax, in which e states his intention to retire from public life, has occasioned some surprise upon the part of those ~vho imagine that official distinction is happiness. But the Vice-President, although his career has been singularly successful and his character irreproachable, declares that he with- draws ~vithout regret, and that he rejoices at his prospective release from the exactions, the cares, and the misrepresentations of political life. It is not all happiness, then? The glory has its shadow? Political life is a curious study. In England the most dazzling prizes are political. In the English novels political success is represented as the greatest triumph. however illustrious in rank a man may be, however rich, the real crown of his life is political distinction. It is very much so in fact. Men of the highest culture, of the utmost refinement and delicacy of nature, enter the lists. Parliament, to the young and accom- plished English gentleman of to-day, is what the tournament and the field were to his ancestor. The church, the army, and political life are the three careers open to a gentleman. And of these the highest in general estimation is un- questionably the last. It is hardly less so in France. The hero in the vaudeville, which is a picture of contemporary life, triumphs at last in receiving his appdintment as embassador.

Editor's Easy Chair Editor's Easy Chair 135-141

EDITORS EASY CHAIR. 135 to stay in their own houses and eat what theyve got! When we returned to the dancing-room, I offered to play a waltz for Tilly. My musical skill was extremely small, but it sufficed for that. Itly received my offer very ungracious- ly, but did not hesitate to accept it. As I sat at the piano-forte running my fingers over the keys, an~ waiting until the dancers should be ready, I unwillingly overheard. a little family quarrel between rrilly and Henny Cudherry and their brother. The subjectof it was Mr. Lacer. Tilly was furiously indignant at ~vhat she termed his neglect of her. Sam, who was willing to support the family dignity so far as it was com- fortable and convenient to himself to do so, but not one inch farther, bluntly told her she was a fool, and that he was not going to have his friend set against him by her nonsense. Hen- ny sided with her sister. There was a sharp altercation. You must give him to under- stand, Sam, said Tilly, bridling and shaking her head till the hollyhocks quivered again, that the person to he attended to here is Miss Cudherry. He hasnt asked m~ to dance once. Its shameful. Well, I suppose he dont ~vant to. Is it my fault? You should make yourself more agreeable. I think, Sam, observed ilenny, waspish- ly, that you might stand up for your own fam- ily. I always did suppose that the Miss Cud- berrys of Woolling were somebody. Oh, blow it! I aint a-going to quarrel with Lacer, and so I tell you. Hes promised to introduce me to ever such tip-toPpers in his regiment. If I was to say, Please would you be so kind as dance with my sister? hed laugh at me, wouldnt he? You want to make a fel- low look like a fool. And if he likes dancing with somebody else better than you, its no good trying to bully him out of it. Added to which. continued Sam, with much candor, I dont believe hed stand it I felt very uncomfortable during my invol- untary eaves - dropping, and played away as loud as I could; but it ~vas not easy to drown the Cudherry voices. Later I observed Mr~ Lacer dancing with Clefuentina, and afterward with Henny; but I knew that would not suffice to appease Mhs Cudberry. Indeed, when I considered within myself what amount of enjoyment had been de- rived by any one from this so much anticipated ball,it~ seemed to me to be distressingly little. Mrs. Batt was in a confirmed state oftiff the ~vhole evening. Mrs. Ilodgekinsons maternal breast was distracted by apprehensions as to the results of the British port on the constitu- tion of her only son, besides being in a glow or smoulder of indignation at not having been taken in to supper by the host.. Mrs. Haniper and her sister appeared to be a prey to the profoundest gloom. Aunt Cudherry was tired and worried. The clergymans pupils, front being simply meek and tractable, had sunk into a condition of exhausted imbecilitydue per- haps partly to the port, but also in a great measure to the Portuguese! In brief, the only persons who did not exhihit signs of more or less severe suffering were Uncle Cudherry and Miss Jolly. The former ~vas as undemon- strative as the figure-head of a ship. The lat- ter was blessed with marvelous vigor both of body and spirit. Mr. Lacer gave me his arm to conduct me across the garden when we went away, and as we followed my parents toward the carriage he whispered, with a sigh, By Jove that was severe, Miss ~urness! You look quite done up. I am rathe,r tired. I nun ashamed to say that I am, but it is the truth. Theres something peculiarly ex- hausting about the atmosphere of that house, I do believe. Not for everybody, it seems. Look there. He turned in the direction to whh~h I point- ed, and we saw flitting at regular intervals across the window-blind a colossal shadow, ac- companied by a smaller one. It was Miss Jol- ly performing a final polka with one of the pupils. THE letter of Vice-President Colfax, in which e states his intention to retire from public life, has occasioned some surprise upon the part of those ~vho imagine that official distinction is happiness. But the Vice-President, although his career has been singularly successful and his character irreproachable, declares that he with- draws ~vithout regret, and that he rejoices at his prospective release from the exactions, the cares, and the misrepresentations of political life. It is not all happiness, then? The glory has its shadow? Political life is a curious study. In England the most dazzling prizes are political. In the English novels political success is represented as the greatest triumph. however illustrious in rank a man may be, however rich, the real crown of his life is political distinction. It is very much so in fact. Men of the highest culture, of the utmost refinement and delicacy of nature, enter the lists. Parliament, to the young and accom- plished English gentleman of to-day, is what the tournament and the field were to his ancestor. The church, the army, and political life are the three careers open to a gentleman. And of these the highest in general estimation is un- questionably the last. It is hardly less so in France. The hero in the vaudeville, which is a picture of contemporary life, triumphs at last in receiving his appdintment as embassador. 136 IJARPELtS NEW MONThLY MAGAZINE. Upon the actual sfage of life scholarf, histo- rians, savans, are politicians and statesmen also. Guizot, Thiers, Lamarrine, Arago, do not dis- dain an active part in politics, and are doubtless as prou& of their political position as of their lit- erary fame. To cross the Atlantic to America is to reverse the fact altogether. The American gentleman upon his travels, who remembers with more real pride than any other incident of his tour the fact that he was invited to dinner by the Prime Min- ister in England, or by the Foreign Minister in France, in his own country wonders that any gentleman can dabble in the dirty ~pool of poli- tics. His charitable excuse for his neighbor who interests himself in political affairs is, that he is rather needy, and would like a respectable living ns minister to Monaco, and so pays the necessary ~ by shutting his eyes and rolling a little in the dirt. If you ask him whether Mr. Gladstone and John Bright, Canning, Burke, ~nd Lord (?hatham, also rolled in the dirt, he smiles, and says that they manage these thij~gs differently in England. if y6u ask him whether, upon the whole, those men could have employed their tab cuts more usefully, and would have done more wisely for themselves, for theii~ country, and for civilization, if they had left politics to inferior men, he is astonished that a man of your sense should not be able to make distinctions. If you ask him again whether he is of opinion that a government like ours would be more honestly and economically administered if it were left wholly to blackguards, he shakes his head. If you then press him to know whether such a government will take caic of itself if decent and honorable men decilne to take any iflterest in its management, he bows politely, and wishes you good-morning. De Tocqueville observed that the tendency of the better men in the United States was to avoid politics. He did not find what Thackeray says was believed in England, that sagacious politi- cians had their eyes upon th~ universities, and selected the most promising youths as candidates for political honors. Yet, at an earlier period, our own custom was the same as .in England. Iii the first Conventions and Congresses there were men of a corresponding elevation and ac complishment with the best elsewhere. Lord Chathams compliment to the Continental Con- gtess is historical, and the pblitical history of any State seventy or eighty years ago presents the finest figures. Nor do they seem so only because they are of the past. The essential ability of Alexander hamilton, for instance, or the moral dignity and power of John Jay, are as evident as the pure patriotism and sagacity of Washington. In explanation of the fact which he observes De Toequeville suggests that a government of the numerical majority is a government of ignorant men who will be swayed by arguments and ap- peals to which the better kind of citizens will dis- (lain to condescend. Consequently the danger of our system, he thought, would be the contin- iially greater prominence and influence of un- principled politicians. Whether his pre~cience has been vindicated every man will decide for himself. That the mass of Ileople in any country have been generally ignorant is true. But the prom- ising conditions of popular government when it ~vas established in this country were these: its wide separation from the immediate contact of other states; the great extent of our territory, avoiding the perils of a close population, and a climate favorable to industry; the homogeneity of the population of the colonies, itsger3ral thrift and intelligence; familiarity with the forms of popular government; and beyond all these the social fruth, of which in various ways history is the ample verification, that in regard to the gen- eral welfare, not in every case but upon the whole, every body knows more or better than any body. With this moral conviction, with these material advantages, with the clear perception of the vital relation of the schools to the state, and with the sensible belief that a popular government was not an ideal system, but the best under all the cir- cumstances, our republic was founded. The dif- ficulty which De Tocqueville mentions was to be obviated, first, by constantly enlightening the people; and secondly, by the fact that a fairly educated people would really choose more wisely for themselves than any class among them could possibly choose. Because, plainly, if th~y were sensible enough to choose the jest citizens for legislators, it was all that was necessary. If they were not sagacious enough to do it, how would the best get appointed? Would chance or gunpowder or the guillotine or an order of aristocracy select any more wisely? It follows, therefore, that interest in politics, which may be in other countries a privilege, is in this country an iml)erative duty. The Auner- ican gentleman, ~vho. is amazed that his re- fined and educated neighbor is active in poli- tics, must understand that his neighbor is mere- ly doinghis dutyis only payifrg the tax of time and attention and knowledge which it is indis- pensable for a good government that every de- cent man should pay. His neighbor is doing all that he can do to enlighten the public opinion, which is the real government o~ the country, and to direct its action. For nothing can be plainer to every thoughtful man than that if good men do not interest themselves in politics, bad men wilL If the tone of politics and the general char- acter of public men have deteriorated, it is great- ly due to the feeling that there is something es- sentially degrading hr political life, or in any de- guec of participation in political affairs. And, therefore, the difficulty has fed itself. The methods of politics have now become so repuls- ive, the corruption is so open, the intrigues and personal hostilities are so shameless, that it is very difficult to engage in them without a sense of humiliation. But the deeper this feeling is, the more supreme should the sense of duty he. On the other hand, every man who does his duty in the matter will find that there are great multi- tudes who are obeying a similar feeling. We are apt to speak of the dirty pool of politics; but a man isamazed, after hearing his neighbor declaim against the rascals and traders and swindlers, to fluid such troops of honest, generous, and enlight- ened men who are in politics only that they may serve the common welfare. Indeed, if they were not thereif he were the only intelligent arid sincere man who ~vent to the caucus or the primary meetiflganarchy and revolution would be close at hand. And every party, however corrupt its management may be, or unprincipled its leaders, ackno~~ledges its conviction of the EDITORS EASY CHAIR. 187 public respect for honesty by generally avoiding in its nominations for high office men of noto- riously bad characten The mostvenal partyman- agers are conscious that a spotless name strength- ens the ticket. And to make that consciousness dee.~per and deeper by constantly improving public sentiment, it is a patriotic duty to engage in prac- tical politics so far as to discuss public questions upon the loftiest principles; to assist in the selec- tion of the best men for office; and, where it can be honorably done with a just regard for all other d uties, to make what is to so many men of a cer- tain temperament the sacrifice of taking office. But if any body supposes that a political career is happiness, he has only to read a few chapters in history, or to reflect upon the letter of the Vice-President. His political life, as we said, lies been successful and distinguished, and few men who have been for eighteen years in public j)osition have made so few enemies. It is not td be supposed, of course, that lie retires from interest in public affairs, nor that he inteiids to desert the political duties of a private citizen. But he thinks, and justly, that he has given as much of his life to public office as ought to he dema,ided, unless lie wishes to continue in it. And in withdrawing he nientions the real sting (if an honest official career, the misrepresenta- tions which accompany it. For it is ~nly when a man takes office, or is proposed for it, that be feels the full fnry of party spirit. And never is a human being so ludicrously contemptible as when he is, not severel.y criticising the culpable conduct of a political opponent, but indulging party malignity. This malignity would be infi- nitely funny it it were not so ferocious. It is one of the chief impediments to civilization, for this, among many other reasons, that it so utter- ly perple~es judgment t)y its enormous false- hood~. The philosophers say that Nature is so intent upon certaiw results that she overchargeS certain instincts and passions, so as to be super- fluously sure of them. And this is also the lauv of party spirit, which burns a house down to roast a pig. The ingenuity with which the simplest facts are distorted by party spirit into the most bale- ful significance is exquisitely comicaL The most familiar details of life are invested with awful mystery. If a distinguished gentleman is seen going North or South or East or Westwhat is he going for? If lie wears a red cravathe is secretly ~ sans-culotte. If lie ~vears a yellow waistcoathe is no friend of Ireland. The (us tiuguished Mr. Jones meets his friend Smith, and they have a chat about the weather. Party spirit publishes the interesting fact that Mr. Jones and Mr. Smith were closeted in earnest conversation, and begs a naturally indignant peo- l)le to keep calm at all hazards, and entreats the judicious, upon retiring at night, to look under th~ieir beds for torpedoes. The minister in the Feejee Islands or at Behring Straits sends a telegram, and to save money signs it Short or Long, omitting the Tohias and Timothy. Ahi ha ! snorts the watchful spirit of party, behold the demoralization of foreign courts! Kings and noblemen call themselves merely William, or Charles, or Wellington, or De Broglie; so this debased American, whose soul is eaten up by flunkeyism, and who grovels in spirit before the proud upstarts of an effete despotism, signs himself Short instead of Tobias Short, and Long, forsooth, instead of Timothy Long! Faugb! Out upon such spaniels ! Bless your soul, dear Cato, they only do it to save a sixpence! These are the absurdities; but there are the malignities also. What a spectacle it is, that of a really clever man sitting down to tax his wlts for the most caustic and elaborate misrepre- sentation of something which he perfectly well knows to he simple and intelligible! Laborious- ly to increase the misunderstanding and false- hood and ill feeling in the world is certainly the most pitiful of human tasks. But it is one which party spirit relentlessly requires. The man whose views of public policy differ from yours you must make ridiculous and odious if you possibly can. We have no case, said the defendants senior counsel to his junior; so abuse the plaintiffs attorney. Take, for in- stance, iii this country, the question of revenue. Let us suppose that there are two general views: one5 that the revenue should he raised by direct, the other that it should be raised by indirect taxation. Or let there be one opinion, that do- mestic industry should he protected; another, that such a policy is unsound. Apparently here is a question to be decided upon careful consid- eration of facts and arguments. But the debate is a Donnybrook fair. There is but one rule on both sides. Wherever you see a head, hit it. The great object is to make the opponent person- ally ridiculous; to smear him ~vith lies and slanders and jibes; to den~unce him as a fool or a knave. It is not enough to show the unsound- ness of his opinions, to prove them injurious to the public welfare, to state truly the dangerous tendency or the humiliating historyof the oppos- - ing party, but you must stigmatize by name those who belong to it, or whom circumstances make prominent, as caitiffi, cowards, and contemptible donkeys. Of course, wben their conduct justifies thu~ severest censure, it is not to be spared. It is often the plainest duty to speak of official per- sons by name, and to contrast their general pro- fessions, or their tacit claims of respectability, with their unprincipled conduct. Indeed, the press does no greater service than when it shows that a man who privately is not a scoundrel may be politically or officially a rascal. But to contemplate every act solely with the inten- tion of ridiculing it is a capital crime against the country, because it tends to repel from the public service the very men who are most want- ed in it. The more fierce and bitter party spirit becomes, the more venal and perilous will be our politics; and no hero of the Revolution, whose name and memory we reverence, is more worthy of profound regard, as a patriot, than the honest and able citizen who takes office un- der the government. WitOEVER goes to the town of North Adams, in Massachusetts, wishes to see the celestial shoemakers. But even If the gates of the facto- ry should be closed against him, the traveler will see one of the busiest of little towns, humming and smoking with various industry, and nestled in time most picturesque and mountainous part of the valley of the ilousatonic, directly at the foot of Greylock, in the north of Berkshire. The census shows that North Adams has grown 138 hARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. more rapidly than any other town in the State, and there are poets native to the region who axe of opinion thnt the shoemakers ate hut the fore- unners of all the wealth of Asia, which is to pour through the pleasant town on its way around the ~vorld, the moment that the eastern mountain wall of the valley is l)ierced by the Hoosac tun- nel, which, it seems, is now only a question of time. Romantic Berkshire is full of picturesque towns; hut while Stockhridge and Lenox and Great Barrington and Sheffield maintain their rural tranquillity, and Pittsfield smiles with the conscious dignity of the county seat, and Will- liamstown, in the extreme northwestern corner of the St~te, is a secluded sylvan altar to the Mnses afid to letters, North Adams is the hus- tling mart and trader; and with thirty-eight fac- tories looks up the valley to Vermont, and west- ward through the Hoosac Valley to the Hudson, and the? prairies, and south along the Housatonic to the Sound and New York; while east its in- domitable faith and energy have so hored the State that the State in turn has hored two-thirds through the mountain to the east, and, when the other third is subdued, will have cleared the way for North Adams to run along the valley of the Deerfield to the Connecticut, andthence through the heart of the State to the Nashua and Morn- mac, and so to Boston and the ends of the earth. Those poets, indeed, in fond imagination and prophetic vision, behold their town High on a throne of royaf state, which far Outshone the wealth of Ormns and of md, Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand Showers on her kings barharic pearl and gold. Perhaps it is the Mongolian incursion which has so stimulated their fancies. As they pass up a street of factories, nuder the magnificent hill- sides blazing with autumn, and catch glimpses of figures that seem to have escaped from famil- iar dinner-plates and rice-paper fans, they hav& a ve?gue feeling that Ormus and md have al- ready arrived, while in the tawny skins of those strange figures haply they see barbaric gold. Up the same street the Easy Chair passed, and presently saw a plain, neat brick factory, with a spacious green beside it. The building was not lofty, and had even a quiet, domestic air, while the universal neatness~ of the grounds suggested a sagacity which knows the value of pleasant sights and local associations to those who work hard. You pass a gate, and turn immediately into the building, entering a small and neat counting-room, out of which opens the hand- somely furnished private office of the proprietor. When you see a gentleman of etect, compact fig- ure, 1mm eye, and few words, you are aware of a man who means to be master of his own busi- ness. The curiosity of all Easy Chairs upon their travels is such that they have thronged im- portunately to the factory, and it has heen found necessary to forbid visitors. But the rule being kindly relaxed, the Easy Chair and its compan- ion, with a friend from whom the whole region hides no secret, passes into the work-rooms. Here is the finishing-roomlight, pleasant, humming, with huge piles of shoes ready for packing, and cylinders covered with sand-paper whirling s~viftly,tand polishing the soles of the shoes. A glance sho~vs that these clear-eyed, in- telligent workmen are not exotics from the flow- ery kingdom. Then through an airy and spa- cious packing-room, across a covered way, intL the room whete the soles are cut, but not by Mon golians. We go on into the furnace and engine and coal rooms, and every where there are the same striking neatness and order. 1he erect, compact, nervous figure in the office seems to be every where manifested. Thett up a straigltt staircase to the middle of a room ahoveand here we are in China. It is, like all the rooms, full of light, and admirably vetitilated. Around the sides, against the windows, are a series of work-benches, and a grottp of three persons at each bench, one at the end and one on each side. They are called teams. Here theparts of the shoes; previously made ready, are put together, and in the middle of the room are two or three J)eggiug-. machines, where the shoes are pegged. rite itt- cessant, staccato noise of these peggers, mingled ~vith the general mutinur of the machinery in the building, makes conversation difficult; but it is the spectacle in which we are most interested. Every body in the room is intently bttsy. A few of the eyes are raised toward us, and there is a bewildering sensation, as if the population of an entire willow-pattern dinner-service tran- quilly turned and lool~ed at us. They look with the lonb slit eyes turning up at the ends as it1 the pictures in the earliest geographies that we re- member. The workmen are dressed in blue cot- ton overalls and cotton shirts, attd most of them wear the Chinese slipper, with the very thick solea kind ofjunkfor the feet. None of thent stop, and as we pause to look at them we see that they are evidently very handy, and already use the tools as it iltey had been long familiar tvith them, althou6h they never made shoes until they came hete. At the pegging-machines the workmen move tlte shoe with the true knack, hut the foreman of the room, an American, sags that they show no inventive faculty, hut only that of imitation. They could not adjust the machine if it went wrong. Each team works by the piece, and turns out perhaps thirty-five pairs of shoes daily. The general impression, as we look around the rootn, is that of extreme delicacy and effeminacy. The worktnen do not seem to be men. They are generally small, and the breadth of the face, with the flatness and fullness of the nose in many of them, gives an inscrutable ex- pression. Is it the ignorance and prejudice of race, is it merely custom and familiarity, which impart sttch superior intelligence and se?gacity to the few American faces with which we compate them? We are introduced to one of the Chinese foremen, or leaders. lIe is of slight figure, has a bright, twinkling smile, and speaks cheerfully, as if he were conscious of being an object of cu- riosity, and did not dislike it. There ate about sixty of the Chinese workmett in the room, atid there can. he nowhere a pleasanter room, nor a busier, more orderly group of workmen. In the other parts of the factory we find the same char- acteristics, with the most courteous and intelli- gent American workmen. Coming down to the covered entrance-way from the street, and etossing what in a college would be called the quadrangle, we enter the domestic quarters of the celestial shoemakers. They are upon the ground-floor, and are very compact. At one end is a lofty and spacious kitchen, where two of the brethren are sitting EDITORS EASY CHAIR. 139 upon the floor peeling potatoes. There are the same order and neatness at every point. Out of the kitchen opens a dining-room fronting upon the quadrangle. There is a series of plain wooden tables along the walls, as in a cafd, or like the, work-benches of the teams in the fac- tory. The seats are wooden benches. The room is high, and there is nothing else in it except at one end, npon the wall, where hang two or three cards printed with Chinese characters, and a few alphabet and arithmetical cards in English. Through a door at the end of the long side of the room we enter the dormitory, which is a room parallel with the dining-room, and prob- ably somewhat wider. There is a range of bunks, like steamboat berths, along each wall, and a double range in the middle. Each range is three bunks hibh, and the aisle between them is very narrow. The bunks are closed with a cnrtain toward the aisle, and the air of the room in the morning, when we are in it, is not unpleas- ant. It is ventilated by a range of deep windows along the cornice, but there is no passage of air through the room except by the door iuto the dining-room. The beds that we see do not look inviting; but the men are reported to be per- sonally cleanly, and to bathe copiously. In the dining-room as we pass out is one poor fellow ill. lie sits upon a bench, leaning drooping and forlorn upon a table, and looks rnef~lly at us as we pass. His sorrowful figure emphasizes the truth which the quarters we have just seen have sug- gested, that there is no domestic life for the ce- lestial shoemakersthat there are no wives and sisters and daughters and sweet-hearts; and, of course, that no country can be benefited by an increase of population without any domesti~ities. Labor that can contentedly live in this way is not labor for America. That is very clear. But how long any labor in this country would contentedly live so is also a question. The American capitalist, as such merely and for to- day, wishes the cheapest possible labor for his~ purpose; but the American capitalist, as a citi- zen, and upon the whole, necessarily wishes -well- paid labor. Labor reduced to the celestial con- (litions which the Easy Chair saw in the neat factory at North Adams would be the swift ruin of the country. But it could not be so reduced. If something must be pardoned to the spirit of liberty, so a great deal must be expected of it, and the in- stinctive protest of the country against the re- duction of labor and its conditions to the lowest terms would be irresistible. The sname spirit protests against the despotism of the Crispins, which the gentleman who means to be master of his own business has, by his Mongolian battery, effectually demolished in his own town. It was diamond cut diamond. For a large an~ influ- ential element of the Crispin organization, and by no means its most intelligent mass, was brought into the country by capital in the same way in which it now complains that capital is bringing the celestial shoemakers. These last are evidently happy and .contented and efficient. But a burned child fears the fire. This country has experienced the consequences of the forced and artificial introduction of a foreign element into the population, and it is not likely to repeat it willingly. So~w years ago the editor of the, old pea~ green monthly, Putnams Magazine, which has just been united with Scribners, received an article for publication called the Hasheesh- Eater. It was evidently a record of personal experience, necessarily suggesting Do Quinceys Opium-Eater, because describing similar 1)110- nomena; but it was ~vritten with a facility and felicity which promised a marked accession to what was called the magazine-force of the coun- try. The paper ~vas written, as appeared from the correspondence which followed, l)y Fitz hugh Ludlow, a recent graduate of Union College, and it was published in September, 1856, when the author ~vas about twenty years gil. Seine time afterward a slight, briglft-eyed,,j~ert young man, who seemed sCarcely? morn~.t a boy, called one morning upon the Eas~ Chair, and with a frank, winning manner said that he was Mr. Ludlow, the author of the Putaahz paper upon Ilasheesh, and that he had come to town to read la~v, and open an office, and try his luck in literature. The Easy Chair, prepossessed by the article and by some acqunititance with Mr. Ludlows fatheran excellent clergyman, of Poughkeep- sieand attracted by the sweet way and sparkling talk of the young man, asked him a great many questions, and answered a great many upon the genertd subject of literature as a profession. How necessarily doubtful it was, even precarious; how full of peculiar temptations for men of a certain temperament, which the Easy Chair ~vas sure it recognized in the young man; how total- ly incompatible the unreserved devotion and in-~ dustry essential to the chance of success in it was with the similar industry and devotion nec- essary to professional advancementall this, with a great deal of detail, the Easy Chair stated to the young man, who had imiready tasted the sweetness of a first triumph, and who listened with smiling eyes of incredulity to the tale. Some little while after~vard Ludlow said that he had opened an office, and, with a merry laugh, declared that while awaiting real, cases he wrote imaginary ones, and, in default of lawful fees, was content with literary, which were not want- ing; for lie had an airy grace of style in writing which well reproduced the sparkling and child- like candor of his social manner. Indeed, some of his early sketches in Harpers Moath~y and Wecicly are unique foragraceful lightness of touch and delicate play of fancy. Ofcourse,in thebright- ness of his eye and a certain glittering vivacity of address, there was something which suggested to the Easy Chair that the young man had not ~vritten quite trimly when, at the very end 6f the article, The hlasheesh - Eater, he said: I raised the little girls hand to my lips, and kissed it, and since then I have taken no other hash- eesh than such as that. But he evaded all lead- ing questions, and made no confessions, and the Easy Chairs acquaintance with him ~id not au- thorize any thing more than a general friendly warning. Those few interviews, and the kindly, hopeful, frolicsome bearing of the young man, who was always a blithe boy, seem now like the warm, clear, brilliant rising of the sun .on some soft spring morning, which instfintly dips behind the heavy cloud, and is seen no more. Gradually the Easy Chair sa~v Ludlow less and less.. He had abandoned the freak of the law, 140 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. had been to a water-cure, was married, and his pen was busier than ever. At length he came no longer, and the Easy Chair only casually saw him. A cloud of sorrowful rumors had envel- oped the young mans life. Many of them, as is always the case, were doubtless untrue, but many also were probably only too much justified in the minds of those who had known him, and who could not help feeling, with the Easy Chair, that the sad old legend ~vas verified in him, and that at the very outset of his life he had thoughtlessly yielded to an intolerable but hopeless tyranny, which, seeming to stimulate his powers, really exhausted them, while it relaxed his moral pur- pose and destroyed his will. His domestic re- lations were unhappy. There was a divorce, and he went to California. Meanwhile he had pub- lished a little volume called The Hasheesh- Eater, and there was afrersvard a collection of his tales issued in Boston; which was not much heard of. A graver book, called The Opium habit, also the fruit of hitfer experience, ~va~ humanely intended to warn and help his fellow- sufferers; and lie was for some time engaged in the preparation of a book describing hi~ West- ~vard journey, and his impressions of the Mor- mons. Lie was still a professional literary man, living chiefly in the city of New York and its neighborhood. During these dreary years he came sometimes hurriedly into the room in which the Easy Chair was bu~ily employed. But lie always avoided speaking or even looking, finishing as rapidly as possible with others the business upon which he came, and swiftly disappearing. It was painful to remark the change from the hoyish, blooming, smiling candor of an earlier time, and to perceive in his flice the first fell ravages of disease. His ~vork upon The Opium Habit had brought him an immense correspondence, and he had endeav- ored, he said afterward, to train himself medical- ly so as to answer usefully the questions thatwere asked of him. -his book upon California was published after soma ddlay. But it is evident that his literary reputation did not increase with time, and he had hardly taken the position to which his peculiar literary talent had plainly pointed. Last June the Easy Chair was sur- prised by receiving a long and earnest private note from Ludlow, inclosing another for publi- cation. The public note, as presently appeared, was not as frank as it should have been; but it is not necessary to impute any ill intention to the writer. He was already wasted to a shadow and grievously ill, and his private note clearly shows his premonition that he should not return from the voyage to Europe which he was about to un- dertake. He sailed from Ne~v York on the 15th of June, and died in Geneva, Switzerland, on the 12th of September, in his thirty-fourth year. Itisavery sorrowful story, not because he died young, for Raphael and Mozart were but little older when they died, but because, with all his brilliant and graceful talent, his career is chief- ly a warning to his fellow-laborers in literature. The slight, bright-eyed, alert youth, who came, beaming with hope and confidence, to talk of the literary life, who wrote for this Magazine so many brilliant little sketches, and such touching verses, and who sank under a slow and withering dis- ease, must not be mentioned here as if he were merely a man of sparkling gifts untirriely blight- ed. There are moral distinctions which can not be buried in the grave; and to say that because a man is dead we must forget his faults, and speak him only fair, is to degrade human life and character. None felt it more than he. In some verses that he wrote, and which were published in this Magazine for June, 1869, there is evident, under a light phrase, the most passionate regret and yearning of a soul which has learned that no lit- erary success, nor. any external triumph, ho~vever brilliant, nor any talent, nor genius, compensates for the lack of moral control of our lives. Of how much tragical consciousness is this poem the expression! This young, sensitive, imaginative soul had a clear, sorrowful glimpse of lost op- portunities, of a wasted life, lie perceived who shall say too late ?the immortal consola- tion of a lofty ideal. resolutely cherished, the gay contempt of whi~hs only aggra\ates cer- tain tendencies of the artistic temperament. Those who read this little poem, and who feel the despairing heart heating under the music, will surely think gently and with infinite, tender pity of Fitz Hugh Ludlow. TOO LATE. A h! si lajeuaesse seveitsi la vieitlesse pouveit I Tuzas sat an old man on a rock, And nneeasing bewatled him of Fate That concern, where we all must take stock, Though our vote has no hearing nor weight; And the old man sang him an old, old song Never san,, voice so clear and strong That it could drown the old mans long, For he sang the eong Too late! too-late When we want, we have for our pains The promise that if we but wait Till the Want has hurned out of our braing Every means shalt be present to sate;. While we send for the napkin the soup gets cold, While the bonnet is trimming the face grows old, When weve matched our buttons the pattern is sold, And every thing comes too 1atetoo late! When strawberries seemed like red heavens, Terrapin stew a wild dream When my brain was at sixes and sevens If aly mother had folks and ice-cream, Then I gazed with a lickerish hunger At the restaurant man and fruit-monger But oh! how I wished I were younger, When the goodies all came in a streamin a stream! Ive a splendid blood horseand a liver - That it jars into torture to trot; My row-boats the gem of the river Gout makes every knuckle a knot! I can buy boundless credits on Paris and Rome, But no palate for m~a no eyes for a dome; - These belonged to the youth who must tarry at home, When no home but an attic hed gothed got. 110w I longed in that honest of garrets, Where the tiles baked my brains all July, For ground to grow two pecks of carrots Two pigs of my own in a sty - A rose-bush-a little thatched cottage Two spoonslovea basin of pottage: Now in freestone I sitand my dotage With a womans chair empty close byclose by! Ah! now, though I sit on a rock, IhavesharedoneseatwiththeGreat; I have sat, knowing naught of the clock, On Loves high throne of state But the lips that kissed and the arms thatcaressed To a mouth grown stern with delay were pressed - And circled a breast that their clasp had blessed Had they only not come too late! too late ! SCHOOL BOOKS. ~UTllO ~ver forgets his first school reading- VVbook? The First or Second Read- er holds its place in the memory of childish days, whether the impression left by repeated perusals be pleasant or distasteful. Too much care can not be bestowed upon a book which, from the necessity of the case, permanently im- presses the characters and tastes. of so many readers. The peculiar feature of the School and Family Series of Readers (Harper and Brothers) is the endeavor, while making the lessons good exercises in reading, to make them convey as much useful information as possible. The Wide range of authors and subjects drawn upon insures abundant variety; excellent taste is displayed in the literary character of the selections; and in mechanical execution, especially in the illus- trations, the series is quite beyond comparison with any other. In the earlier volumes the de- partments of natural history and science most interesting to children are laid under contribu- tion; andwe speak from actustl experience in the class-roomchildren using them take an especial interest both in the exercise of reading and the subject-matter of the lessons. The latest issue of the series, Willsons Intermediate Fifth Reader, is devoted to Composition, Rhetoric, and Oratory, and constitutes a most useful and interesting reading-book, setting oUt in familiar style the general principles of the various forms of composition, in prose and poetry, and illus- trating them by selections from the wide field between Aristophanes and Victor lingo, the Bible and Mark Twain.The avowed object of the editor of Literary Selections for the Students of the Normal College for Yonnq Ladies of the City of New York (harper and Brothers) is to cukivate a taste for a higher cl~ss of reading than Fee-faw-fum, the Pirate of the Gulfan object which he seeks to attain by a volume made up of selections from such English classical writers as Shakspeare, Milton, Addison, De Foe, of the past, andTennyson, Carlyle, Macaulay, andThackeray, of the present era.~ The object is certainly an ad- mirableone, and the selection is well adapted to the purposeDr. JOHN S. HARTS C~nposition and llhetoric (Eldredge and Brother, Philadelphia) will do an excellent work if it helps to awaken more interest in the study of such subjects in common schools. All the pupils in them certainly will not be writers of hooks; but all will be read- ers, and, after their manner, critics (it is not an essential qualification for ajuryman that he should have committed the crinie charged against the prisoner); and a better ~cquaintance with the canons of good writing would help do away with much that is very poor. Most of those whose reading is confiped to th6 lighter class of novels are capable of reading something else with e4ual avidity. Apart from such indirect advantages, the book contains matter of primary importance to every one in its detailed instructions respect- ing the form, style of address, subscription, and superscription of letters, and other similar mat- ters.No one trulynuderstands the use of the En- glish language who has not leartied to trace words back to their derivatives. SamiTHs Condensed Etymology of the English Language for coiamon Schools (A. S. Barnes and Co.) is a useful guide to this important but neglected branch of study, and covers a wider ground than any other treatise of similar size and scope with which we are ~c- quainted.Teachers will welcome in FRENcHS Mental Am-ithmetic (Harper and Brothers) an evi- dent reaction from the general tendency in such works to the use of long and cumbrous methods of solution, in which formulmn, rigid as those of the higher mathematics, have been applied to the~ most elementary problems, and clearness and con- ciseness disregarded. Perhaps, for most of the purposes sought iu the study of mental arith- metic by children, any correct solution original with the pupil is to be preferred to a memorized formula. Certainly, if fixed methods are used, the forms here given should promote accuracy and rapidity in combinations. In other points the book compares favorably with similarworks. One advantage it shares with the rest of the series, is the arrangement of topics, by ~vhich the same subject can be studied in both written and mental arithmetics at the same timePro- fessor PEcKS Elementary Treatise on Mechanics (A. S. Barnes and Co.) holds a place intermediate between the school books on natural philosophy, which deal chiefly with phenomena, and the high- er works on mechanical philosophy. It is a sig- nificant in(hication of the limited extent of the study of mathematics in our colleges and schools of science, thist in such a text-book, prepared ex- pressly for their use, it has been thought neces- sary, or even admissible, to omit the calculus. From this and like limitations it results that the - work may be read with interest by any one at all familiar with algebraic language. The practical scope of the book suggests the utility of a some- what similar volume suitable for working mechan- ics.In our judgment spelling should be taught by sight, not sound, i. e., by writing, not by recita- tion. Of all the spellers, however,which adhere to the old method, Wilisons New Speller and Analyzer (harper and Brothers) is certainly the most complete. A very simple expedient en- ables the author to embrace a much larger num- ber of words than on the old plan could have been comprehended in the same sized book; and we think, too, in such a way as will assist the pupil to retain them in his memory. The book will for this reason, perhaps, prove useful to the teach- er who employs writing as a method of instruc- tion, no less than to him ~vho adheres to the verb- al recitation. NOVELS. Estelle Russell (harper and Brothers) has qualities which take it omit of the category of com- mon novels. We do not remember to have met the author before in the fields of jomance, and her Private Life of Galileo, though in some respects a remarkable book, did not display thin same capability for historical that Estelle Rus- sell does for novel writing. The tale is one of two nations, and vibrates between France and England. Some important incidents in it turn upon the peculiar marriage laws and customs of the former country. The somewhat intricate plot is exceedingly well managed. The author- ess, in converting the marriage of convenience

Editor's Literary Record Editor's Literary Record 141-146

SCHOOL BOOKS. ~UTllO ~ver forgets his first school reading- VVbook? The First or Second Read- er holds its place in the memory of childish days, whether the impression left by repeated perusals be pleasant or distasteful. Too much care can not be bestowed upon a book which, from the necessity of the case, permanently im- presses the characters and tastes. of so many readers. The peculiar feature of the School and Family Series of Readers (Harper and Brothers) is the endeavor, while making the lessons good exercises in reading, to make them convey as much useful information as possible. The Wide range of authors and subjects drawn upon insures abundant variety; excellent taste is displayed in the literary character of the selections; and in mechanical execution, especially in the illus- trations, the series is quite beyond comparison with any other. In the earlier volumes the de- partments of natural history and science most interesting to children are laid under contribu- tion; andwe speak from actustl experience in the class-roomchildren using them take an especial interest both in the exercise of reading and the subject-matter of the lessons. The latest issue of the series, Willsons Intermediate Fifth Reader, is devoted to Composition, Rhetoric, and Oratory, and constitutes a most useful and interesting reading-book, setting oUt in familiar style the general principles of the various forms of composition, in prose and poetry, and illus- trating them by selections from the wide field between Aristophanes and Victor lingo, the Bible and Mark Twain.The avowed object of the editor of Literary Selections for the Students of the Normal College for Yonnq Ladies of the City of New York (harper and Brothers) is to cukivate a taste for a higher cl~ss of reading than Fee-faw-fum, the Pirate of the Gulfan object which he seeks to attain by a volume made up of selections from such English classical writers as Shakspeare, Milton, Addison, De Foe, of the past, andTennyson, Carlyle, Macaulay, andThackeray, of the present era.~ The object is certainly an ad- mirableone, and the selection is well adapted to the purposeDr. JOHN S. HARTS C~nposition and llhetoric (Eldredge and Brother, Philadelphia) will do an excellent work if it helps to awaken more interest in the study of such subjects in common schools. All the pupils in them certainly will not be writers of hooks; but all will be read- ers, and, after their manner, critics (it is not an essential qualification for ajuryman that he should have committed the crinie charged against the prisoner); and a better ~cquaintance with the canons of good writing would help do away with much that is very poor. Most of those whose reading is confiped to th6 lighter class of novels are capable of reading something else with e4ual avidity. Apart from such indirect advantages, the book contains matter of primary importance to every one in its detailed instructions respect- ing the form, style of address, subscription, and superscription of letters, and other similar mat- ters.No one trulynuderstands the use of the En- glish language who has not leartied to trace words back to their derivatives. SamiTHs Condensed Etymology of the English Language for coiamon Schools (A. S. Barnes and Co.) is a useful guide to this important but neglected branch of study, and covers a wider ground than any other treatise of similar size and scope with which we are ~c- quainted.Teachers will welcome in FRENcHS Mental Am-ithmetic (Harper and Brothers) an evi- dent reaction from the general tendency in such works to the use of long and cumbrous methods of solution, in which formulmn, rigid as those of the higher mathematics, have been applied to the~ most elementary problems, and clearness and con- ciseness disregarded. Perhaps, for most of the purposes sought iu the study of mental arith- metic by children, any correct solution original with the pupil is to be preferred to a memorized formula. Certainly, if fixed methods are used, the forms here given should promote accuracy and rapidity in combinations. In other points the book compares favorably with similarworks. One advantage it shares with the rest of the series, is the arrangement of topics, by ~vhich the same subject can be studied in both written and mental arithmetics at the same timePro- fessor PEcKS Elementary Treatise on Mechanics (A. S. Barnes and Co.) holds a place intermediate between the school books on natural philosophy, which deal chiefly with phenomena, and the high- er works on mechanical philosophy. It is a sig- nificant in(hication of the limited extent of the study of mathematics in our colleges and schools of science, thist in such a text-book, prepared ex- pressly for their use, it has been thought neces- sary, or even admissible, to omit the calculus. From this and like limitations it results that the - work may be read with interest by any one at all familiar with algebraic language. The practical scope of the book suggests the utility of a some- what similar volume suitable for working mechan- ics.In our judgment spelling should be taught by sight, not sound, i. e., by writing, not by recita- tion. Of all the spellers, however,which adhere to the old method, Wilisons New Speller and Analyzer (harper and Brothers) is certainly the most complete. A very simple expedient en- ables the author to embrace a much larger num- ber of words than on the old plan could have been comprehended in the same sized book; and we think, too, in such a way as will assist the pupil to retain them in his memory. The book will for this reason, perhaps, prove useful to the teach- er who employs writing as a method of instruc- tion, no less than to him ~vho adheres to the verb- al recitation. NOVELS. Estelle Russell (harper and Brothers) has qualities which take it omit of the category of com- mon novels. We do not remember to have met the author before in the fields of jomance, and her Private Life of Galileo, though in some respects a remarkable book, did not display thin same capability for historical that Estelle Rus- sell does for novel writing. The tale is one of two nations, and vibrates between France and England. Some important incidents in it turn upon the peculiar marriage laws and customs of the former country. The somewhat intricate plot is exceedingly well managed. The author- ess, in converting the marriage of convenience 14.2 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. into a marriage of love, and rendering Estelle finally happy with Raymond, violates all thecon- ventional usage of novel-writers, and is pleasant- ly audaciot~. The coaversation is sprightly and vivacious, without being forced, and the charac- ters well drawn, without being powerful crea- tions. It is not so much these qualities as a cer- tain nameless something behind them which in- duces our statement that the story is taken out of the category of common novels; not so much the novel itself as certain hints and suggestions it affords of power, as yet imperfectly developed, in the writer. It is a curious feature of her book that, while a certain religious coloring per- vades it throughout, the reader is left in curi- ous uncertainty at the close whether the author be a Protestant, a Roman Catholic, or a Ration- alist; whether her religious sympathies are with the devoted and indefatigable henrietta, the sci- entifically skeptical Vivian, the scoffingly skeptic- al Raymond, or the superstitiously pious Abbd DEyrieu. Its most original, if not its greatest power, is in the incidental portrayal of the differ- ent phases and forms of religious life as they ap- pear not only in these personages, but in Mrs. Vivian and Madame 1)e Montaign, who respect- ively represent the extremes of Protestant and Roman Catholic bigotry, as well as in other less important characters. Yet this power, of which at the beginning we expected a good deal, is em- ployed to no purpose. The religious types of character are artistically et~hed, but no religious conviction is strengthened, and no religious les- son taught. The most serious defeat in the book is a timid evasion of difficulties by the substitu- tion of asterisks for, description in passages that apparently overtax the authors power. It is as if an artist, afraid of his subject, should leave the most important head in his piece a blank. But, despite these disappointments, having once opened the novel, we were cajoled into reading it, without the intermission of a chapter, steadily to the enda complimentwhich fe~v novel-~vriters extort from ul. We hope tomeet the author of Estelle Russell again. OF all GEORGE SANDS novels-Monsieur S~ilces- h~e (Roberts Brothers) is the most wonderful as a specimen of incomparable art, though not the most popular nor the most fascinating. Corn- posed entirely of a series of letters, the continu- itv and interest of the narrative are nevertheless not once lost. Philosophicallyfor all George Sands novels are ,written with a philosophical purposeit is an exposition of religion outside the church,, yes, outside Christianity; its moral being summed up in the final sentence: Be an unbeliever again rather than selfish. Cod does iiot love cowards. It mi~ht, perhaps, serve a useful purpose in France. It is not needed in America.If it were not fur the title-page we should never imagine that the choice of Paris (Hurd and Houghton) was a romance; if it were not for the preface we should not dream that Mr. S. G. XV. BENJAMIN imagined that the men and women of that day (the age of the siege of Troy) were like the men and women of our time. As a school history it would be just tol- erable, but as a romance its barrenness of im- agination and want of dramatic power render it a positive curiosity in literature.Of the Heir Expectant (Harper and Brothers) it is enough for old novel-readers to say that it is by the an- thor of Raymonds Heroine. It is a most cogent sermon on the text, The love of mon- ey js the root of all evil ; powerful, dramatic, well sustained, morally healthfulIt is impos- sible coldly to criticise The Mysteiy of Edwin Drood (Harper. and Brothers). XVe read it as the memento of a departed friend, whose power was never more apparent than in this last product of his pen. Of all his novels it promised to he the most dramatic; of them all it flows with the fiercest torrent; with a certain impetuosity of passion that is characteristically unlike his earlier novels; with adefiniteness of characterization and a power of description that not even Oliver Twist or David Copperfield excelled; but with little of that sparkling humor which made his first works the cheeriest of modern novels, but which culminated in his Christmas stories, and has been fading ever since. These opening chapters do but sketch the mystery hinted at in the title; not a word, not a line, not- a note is found to hint what in the novelists mind was to be the final solution of it.Harpers publish in - three volumes, in good, clear type, well illustia ted, and at the marvelous low price of $6 50 for the set, the novels of Thackeray; and in the same form and for the same price those of Charles Reade. They constitute the cheapest and the best editions of the works of-these two popularnovehi~ts. RELIGIOUS. OVER half a century ago a wealthy curmier of England, by the name of Talbot, spent the leis- ure of many years in arranging the verses of Scripture according to a certain classification of topics, partly for his Own study, and partly for the purpose of forming a book convenient for reference. As he was unacquainted with the original tongues, this was purely a classification of the English texts. This was the first attempt to make what the, lawyers would call a digest of the Bible. It l~ias been stolen by Whowehl, im- proved on by West, and has now been. made the basis of what is fairly entitled to its name, A New end complete Analysis of the Holy Bible, by Professor R. D. Ilrrcncoca. (A. J. Johnson, New York city.) It is really new; for though the previous work of Talbot suggested the idea and the previous labors of West facilitated its execution, it is really a new arrangement, not merely a new edition of an old arrangement. It is complete, not merely because it contains under appropriate classification, every one of the 31,173 verses of the Bible, nor yet alone be- cause the classification is exhaustive, but also because the indices and appendices, including Dr. Eadies edition of Crudens Concordance, which make up almo~ half the volume, render it a very full and valuaThle apparatus for Biblical study. The illustrations, which are very good, have no more place in it than i1m a Greek Lex- icon; but probably a subscription-book with- out illustrations would be an anomaly in the trade greater than an analysis with illustrations is to the scholar. The volume is an honor to American scholarship and a valuable contribu- tion to the instruments of Scripture study. Women of 1sael (D. Appleton and Co.) is the only one of GRACE AGUILARS works which is strictly historical in itscharacter, and the only EDiTORS LITERARY RECORD. 143 one in which the Jewish faith of the authoress is openly avowed, or even clearly discernible. Her strong prejudice of race induces her to extol the virtues and extenuate the vices of the heroesand heroines of Hebrew history, so that her volume is not an altogether impartial portraitnre of char- acter, hut it is nevertheless valuable as a Biblical study, and admirably fulfills its avowed purpose, which is to remove that prejudice against women which is so purely an excrescence upon Judaism. The laws of Mosds opened the highest offices in the state to woman, and no history contains more illustrious examples of feminine courage, devo- fion, wisdom, and piety than that which is re- splendent with the stories of Deborah, of Esther, of Iluldab, and of Hannah. Yet even in the time of Christ (so greatly had the Jewish nation suffered from contact with other nations) the rabbis declared that it was not allowable to teach the law to a woman, and Christs disciples were astonished that their Master talked with a woman by the well-side in Samaria. To interpret wo- mans nature and to do honor to her work was the one object of Grace Aguilars life, and t~Wo men of Israel may, therefore, be regarded not only in a religions, but in a literary and social point of vie~v, her most characteristic work. THERE is no religious writer, in the stricter sense of the term, whom we read with greater in- terest than Dr. GUTHRtE. Dr. BLAIKIE is doubt- less equally sound and equally able, hut he is not so interesting. Saving Knowledge (Carters), a series of discourses addiessed to young men, is the product of their joint pen, and, in literary merit, is very far above the average of popular religious literature.Despite Mr. W. C. Bry- ants indorsement, in an introductory note, of the style of Work-day Christianity (Claxton, Remsen, and Ilaffelfinger), as clear and well- suited to the subject, we think it not infre- quently falls into the sophomoric. Mr. CLARK would write better if he would labor less to produce fine writing. Nevertheless, it is an ingenious, good-spirited, and useful book, despite such absurd statements as that one of the greatest things that Abraham Lincoln did while ]?resident was to black his own boots I and such laborious rhetoric as that of the paragraph comparing Christ as creator of the world and Christ working at his fathers bench as a com- mon carpenter. Heroes of Hebrew History (Carters) is a series of sketches by Dr. WILBER- FORcE, Bishop of Winchester, reprinted from Good Words. [hey are something in the vein of 1)ean Stanleys writings, though with much less of fresh and useful iuformatiqn, and much more of pious morahizing.Dr. SCHMUcK- ERS treatise on the True Unity qI Christs Ghurch (A. D. F. Randolph) is more valuable as a wit- ness of the increasing catholicity of the spirit of the age than as a specific plan for an organic union of Protestant Christianity.We prefer our novels and our theology in separate packages. Such a nondescript as the Open Door, by J. HYATT SMITH, is too dull for a story, and too diffuse for a treatise. The doctrine inculcated is open communion, and is addressed by a Bap- tist minister to his Baptist brethren.It is some- what remarkable that so liberal and progressive a treatise as Geology and Revelation (Putnam) should be published by a Roman Catholic eccle sinstic, just at the time when the ~ZEcumenical Council declares that scIence is to be accepted as it has been always taught in the Romaim Cath- olic Church~ Dr. MOLLOY maintains the geo- logical theory of creation, and undertakes to show that it does not contradict the Mosaic cos- mogony. His discussion of the meaning of the words day, and evening and morning, in the first chapters of Genesis, is the best we have met, though brief, and though it conducts him to no better conclusioa than lhe frank confession, We can offer no explanation that seems to us, in any system of interpretation, altogether satis- factory. Lunges Couuuentary (Scribuer) is continued by the publication of a volume con- taining Galatians, Ephesians, Philippians, and Colossians. Seven independent scholars, Ger- man and American, have contributed in the con- struction of this volume. Its only fault is that it contains too much, and that the scholar is in danger of being bewildered and lest in the very amplitude of the material furnished him. Robert Carter and Brothers issue a new edition of Dr. HANNAS Life o/ fJ%rist, which we have heretofore noticed, printed evidently from thu same plates, but bound in three volumes instead of six, and sold for half the price of the former edition. HISTORY AND BIOGRAPhY. Momnmsens History qf Rome, translated by the Rev. WILLIAM P. DicKsoN, D.D. (Charles Scribuer and Co.), will al~vays seem valuable and interesting to the scholar and the man of thought. But it can scarcely become popular. Few care to read long disquisitions upon the arts and sci- ences of barbarous ages, or would willingly ex- chamige the vigorous narrative of Livv for mod- ern historical criticism. Kiebuhrs example of profuse skepticism and bold reconstruction has had an unhappy influence upon the method of his successors: Sch~vegler abounds in an excess of research upon unimportant legends; Arnold is often led away by the brilliant theories of Nie- buhr; and Mommsen has given us a series of learned essays, rather than a sustained and strik- ing story. We almost forget the theme in the abundance of his illustration. The first volume, embracin~ a period of nearly five centuries, has scarcely any narrative. It is made up of highly instructive inquiries into the condition and manners of ancient Italyand Rome. The ch pter On the original Constitution of Rome, for example, condenses almost every thing that is known upon the subject. We are supplied with minute particulars at the habits of a Ror~an family during tIme regal period; we are assured that the father was the master of his household, and the king of the state. But, with the usual inconsistency of the skeptical school of historians, we are told nothing of the kings themA selves. The same authorities that are held suf- ficiently trust-worthy to define the regal institu- tions are rejected as fabulous when they relate the lives of Tulhius or Tarqnin. They are looked upon as accurate when they assert that the king sat in judgment in all private and all criminal processes; they are altogether worthless whem~ they profess to describe his conquests in Etruria or Latium. Such partial skepticism can not fail to appear illogical. The second and third volumes grow in inter- 144 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. est, and throw a vivid light upon various difficult passages ia Roman history. Nowhere can be found a clearer account of the emifient reform- ers, the Gracchi, Scipio, and Marius; or a more accurate. picture of the decline of the pational vigor. Slavery; warfare, and aristocracy de- stroyed Roman virtue; luxury followcd in their track. Yet Mommsen, writing under European influences, can scarcely be said to have done full justice to the leaders of the people. lie doubts the virtue of the Gracchi, and applauds the conservative rancor of their defamers. it is. a grave error, for from their unselfish lives and mournful fate modern freedom has received one of its strongest impulses. Both taught the dig nity of labor, and strove to increase the numbers of the working-classes; both gave their lives to the cause of popular improvement, and have in- dicated political truths that later ages have nev- er forgotten. Tiberiuspure, accomplished, gen- tle, eloquentstrove to make Rome once more a nation of farmers, to divide the public lands among the people, and spread a general industry and content. lie was set upon by the rich contract- ors and corrupt nobles, and basely murdered. His brothers fate was not dissimilar. Yet we are asked to believe that thesemen were tyrants and demagogues because they disturbed the fa- tal ascendency of a caste! it is not likely that such an opinina will gain the assent of modern scholars. Of Dr. Mommsens survey of the corruption of the commoaweahh in the seventh century it is impossible to speak too highly. He describes with singular accuracy the national decay. War had produced its necessary fruits. A limited body of wealthy capitalists gained the control of the nation, engrossed every productive contract, and usurped the public domain. The free citi- zens were driven from their farms; the lands were tilled by hordes of slaves; roads, aqueducts, and bridges were built by servile labor; and even the trade and industry of the city fell into the hands of the rich. Artisans were usually owned by capitalists, and skillful mechanics were bought and sold. As peace and intelligent labor tend to produce equality and general ease, so long- continued warfare must divide nations into pau- pers and millionaires. A coarse and repulsive extravagance succeeded this process at Rome. The eminent men of the early ages had proved their honesty and their patriotism by dying poor; the contemporaries of Crassus and Cnsar wasted their ill-gotten gains in idle show and fatal self- indulgence. The chapters on literature and art are also ex- ceedingly well done. They are concise, ~lear, sufficient. The caustic, acute, and careful Lu- cilius, the polished Terence, stand out distinctly in a judicious criticism. Dr. Mommseu has paid a just tribute to the historian Polybius, whose p~ss~on for truthfulness above all artistic elo- quence he has imitated as well as praised; yet it is possible that the careful Greek has suffered with posterity by his bold scorn of all literary art. While we differ from many of his, conclusions, and can not altogether approve of his method, we must admit that Dr. Mommsen has produced a work of great value, learned, vigorous, orig- inal, and well fitted to take its place beside the immortal labors of his countrymen Niebuhr and Schwegler. We owe to the lifnitless toil of Ger man scholars our close acquaintance with the pol- itics and manners of republican Rome. They. have enabled us to join in the contests of the forum, and feast at the banquets of Gallus; to catch . the allusions of the poets; to supply the defects of Livy; and Mominsen has at .length given us a work that unites in its novelty and its vigor many of the highest excellences of histor- ical composition. To comprise the whole eventful and romantic history of the United States within the limited compass of four hundred pages requires absolute genius for condensation. It is a task which Mr. DAVID B. SCOTT has accomplished with remark- able success in his School History of the United Stetes (Harper and Brothers). school histories are proverbially dull and uninteresting. This appears to result, ordinarily, partly from the ne- cessity which compels such condensation, partly. from the erroneous supposition that it is only the bald facts of history which children can under- stand or need to learn. To describe in such de- tail as r~nders graphic and entertaining the mai~ velous episodes which make history more sensa- tional than romance requires room and time which the school historian can not afford. The most dramatic of all historians, Froude, devotes twelve volumes to the illustration of half a cen- tury. To omit much that is important, if not essential, for the sake of amplifying what is in- teresting, makes a popular book, but not a com- plete one. Mr. Scott has discovered the secret of making an interesting nariative by the vely brevity of his treatment. his story moves with a rapidity which possesses a certain fascination of its own, though his style is severely simple, and almost absolutely devoid of ornament. But there are no wasted sentences on his pages; no - useless words in his sentences; and in his de- scriptions, though he gives but an outline, lie knows how. to draw those lines which make the sketch perfect as a sketch. His history of the civil war, for example, gives a birds-eye view of the whole complicated series of campaigns as a whole; so that, in a comparatively small num~ ber of lessons, an intelligent scholar may obtain a coirect idea of that great movement, its causes and its effects, while lie is of necessity referred to laiger and more elaborate histories for detail- ed accounts of particular campaigns and battles. The book is rendered remarkably attiactive to chiildi-en by the very large number of illustrations which it contains, and its real usefulness is great- ly enhanced by a number of maps, without which history is always blind. In that portion of the history which is devoted to an account of the civil war we count no less than seventeen of these maps, illustrating in one form or another almost every phase of the war. G. P. PUTNAM AND SON issne, in a single me- dium-sized volnme, a condensation of Irvings Life of Washington. We have not compai-ed the volume with the original work from which - it is taken, but have judged it in a fairer way by reading it, and forming our judgment upon it as an independent history. We do not see that it has lost any of the charm of Mr. In- vixos incomparable style in the condensation, nor that it has omitted any thing which it is essential for the reader of the history of the EDITORS LITERARY RECORD. 45 American Revolution to know. Dr. BONAR tells us in his preface to his Life of Rev. .16/sn Milize, of Pert/s (Robert Carter and Brothers), that he wished not to execute a piece of sculp- ture. If by this he means that he intended not to be artistic, he has certainly succeeded. his volume is not a biography, but a compilation of selections from letters and Mr. Milues journal, put together in the careless method of most re- ligious memoirs. A true biography is the most interesting form of literature. Such a memoir as this has very little healthful interest to any. except the l)ersonal friends of the subject.The Lfe of Arthur Tappan, by LEwIs TAPPAK (Hurd and Iloughton) is more than a biog- raphy. It is necessarily a history of the origin, growth, and work of the Anti-Slavery Society, and of the contemporaneous movements with which it was more or less identified. Some- thing of the heat of the old controversies reap- pears in these pages. But one can not rake in ashes without disturbing the coals. In the main the language is temperate, and the history hon- est, though not impartial. No one can read it without honoring the Christian principle and courage of Arthur Tappan, who deserves to be enrolled among the great benefactors of his age, though he was neither wise as a serpent nor harm- less as a dove. CYCLOPEDIAS. G/sa,aberss Encyclopedia (J. B. Lippincott and Co.) is the product of two confluent streams. A century and a half a~o Ephraim Chambers, then an apprentice to a globe-maker in London, formed the conception of a popular dictionary of universal knowledge, and wrote some articles for it while he tended his masters cQunter. In 1728 he realized his idea by the publication of the first comprehensive cyclope- dia in the En~lish language, for the Lexicum Technicuni of John Harris, which had appear- ed twenty years before, was neither popular nor complete. Mr. Chambers, though a man of limited scholarship, possessed unlimited energy. his work sprang at once into a popularity then unexampled. Five successive editions were pub- lished in eighteen years; it was translated into French and Italian; and it was the basis of Dr. Reess New Cyclopedia, in forty-five volumes, published in 180319, at that time the most com- plete and comprehensive work of its kind in the English tongue. A century after the work of Ephraim Chambers was first given to the public, two brothers, WILLIAM and ROBERT CHAMBERS, commenced the publication in Scotland of a class of books the object of which was to give general informatlon to the people on various l)ractical and historical subjects. They soon joined in partnership, and the success of Chamberss Information for the People, Chamberss Miscellany, Chamberss Cyclo- pedii of English Literature, and other similar works, gave them a fame which extended be- vond the bounds of their own country. Mean- while the famous French Encyclop~die, whose polished style, no less than its irreligious philos- ophy, made it at once popular and powerful, and the less famed but more useful Conversa- tions-Lexikon of Brockhaus, gave a new im- petus to this form of literature, which had grown to such proportions since the idea first germin- Vot.. XLII.No. 247.i 0 ated in the brain of Ephraim Chambers that in England and. America alone there were to be counted twenty-three cyclopedins of universal knowledge, comprising four hundred and fifty- foUr volumes, and this besides a goodly number of c~clopedias on special subjects. The broth- ers Chambers thought, however, that there was room for another which should realize the con- ception of the original Chamberss Cyclope- dia. An attempted translation of the Con- versations-Lexikon, a German cyclopedia, de- signed for the use of those who might desire to take part in die society and conversation of well-informed persons, was wisely abandon- ed for the present original work, which, as a dictionary of universal knowled~e for the peo- ple, has but one rival, the New American Cyclopedia of the Messrs. Appleton. It i~ considerably smaller; is comprised in ten vol- umes, while Appletons fills sixteen, besides the annual supplements since 1861. in style it is more popular. There are no long treafises. The various masses of systematic knowledge have been broken down, as it were, to as great a degree as is consistent with the separate ex- planation of the several fragments. The con- densation, effected with rare judgment and skill, renders the articles more clear aiid interesting to the non-professional reader, though less ex- haustive, and perhaps less satisfactory to the scholar. In metaphysics the work is much briefer than Appletons; debated points are hard- ly opened, much less discussed with any elabo- ration; in science it is more popular, but less erudite and elaborate; in religion and theology it is much more satisfactorytopics with which the American work deals timidly, as though its editors xvere either unfamiliar witit them, or from theological considerations afraid of them. The evangelical sympathies of the Messrs. Chambers are unmistakable; but the views of all sects are stated with rare candor and impartiality, as wit- ness, for example, a remarkably catholic arti- cle on the atonement. The same candor char- acterizes other articles; that on Andri, for ex- ample, which justifies his execution as a spy of the worst sort. The illustrations add con- siderably to ,the value of the work, though not so much as they might. The full-page plates, of ~vhich there are eight or ten in each of three vol- umes now published, add rather to their attract- iveness than their usefulness. All but one are pictures of animals. Among the smaller illustra- tions there is a grcat overstock of meaningless pictures of plants and animals, and a great dearth of illustrations of modern science and art. In Cotton we have a cotton plant, but nothing to illustrate cotton cultivation or cotton manufac- ture; in agriculture no picture save one of an Egyptian irrigating-machine, and in architect- ure none at all. the maps, on the other hand, printed in colors, are admirable, as beautiful spec- imens of drawing and printing as one could ask, and render the Cyclopedia better than a really first-class atlas. The one serious defect in the work for the American reader is its English char- acter. lie will rarely have occasion to consult such articles as Abjuration, Act of I~arlia- meat, etc.; while he will be disappointed to find under thetitle of Abolitionists only a parapraph instead of a history qf the abolition movement in this country; under the article Communism 146 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. not so much as a hint that John Owens ever the crowning labor of the brothers ChamberA came to the United States, or that Fourier had in cheap literature, and its republication a work any disciples here; and under the article Cool- well worthy. of the house which gives simultane- no account of the Chinese coolies, and no in- ously to the American -public three such works formation concerning the aspects of the cooly-la- as Allibones Dictionary of Authors, Thom- bor question in America. Despite this defect, ass Pronouncing Dictionary of Biography and which only a thorough re-editing could have ob- Mythology, and Chamberss Illustrated Ency- viated, we think that Chamberss Encyclopedia clopedia. In paper, typography, printing, and may fairly be considered what it has been called, bin ding it is all that the best taste could ask. RELATION OF BLOOD TO LIFE. IT has generally been supposed that the pres- ence of blood in a state of circulation in the system is absolutely necessary to life, and that.the cessation of such action is always accompanied by death. In a course of recent lectures by Pro- fessor Bernard, of Paris, he refers to this belief, and states that if one of the higher animals be suddenly deprived of its blood it will at once ex~ pire, since the blood nourishes the tissues, and confers its special properties upon them; but that, under certain circumstances, the vital mani- festations may persist for a long time after the blood has been abstracted. This, he states, may be observed at any time in a cold-blooded ani- mal, and especially during the cool season. Thus, a frog in winter will preserve its vitality for t~ven ty-four hours after the withdrawal of its blood; and if one of the abdominal veins be opened and feebly saline or sugared water, or even mer- cury, be injected, until all the blood is replaced bV the liquid, the animal may still move, leap, and manifest all the ordinary signs of life for several days. If the web of the foot be exam- ined by the microscope, a fluid entirely destitute of globules will be seen to circulate in it, show- ing that the blood globules have been removed ~vithont suspending the functions of life. This is stated to be somewhat analogous to the condi- tion of things in the hibernation of animals, and in the cold stage of cholera in man, during which the circulation may apparently cease completely, so that no blood shall flow if an artery be open- ed, and yet all the ordinary manifestations of life continue. In both cases a considerable reduction of temperature is observed, and the functions of the red corpuscles are reduced correspondingly in activity. PHYSIOLOGICAL EFFECTS OF ALCOHOL An important memoir upon the effects of alco- hol upon the human body was lately read before the Royal Society of London, giving the result of experiments prosecuted by two eminent army surgeons upon an intelligent British soldier. This man was perfectly healthy, and entirely un- accustomed to the use of spirits or tobacco in any form; ~. that the effects produced were di- rect, and could be readily appreciated. It was ascertained that small quantities of absolute al- coholsay one or two fluid ouncesgiven in divided doses, seemed to increase his appetite, while four fluid ounces lessened it considerably, and larger quantities almost destroyed it. While this particular effect may have been the result of peculiarities of constitution in the individual experimetited upon, it is also possible that, in case of disease, much smaller quantities of alco- hol might affect the appetite. The number of beats of the heart in 24 hours was increased very largelyto an avera~e of at least 13 per ceut.arid the actual work done by the heart, in excess of the normal task, was found to be equal to that of liftiug 15 tons one foot; and, indeed, during the last two days of the experiment the extra work amounted to 24 tons. The general conclusions, from this experiment and others which we have not time to mention, are very decided that, in case of ordinary health, the use of alcohol, even in small doses, is very much to be reprehended; but that, when the system is run down and enfeebled, it may be given as a stimulant, and for the purpose of causing the organs of the body to act with great- er vigor. EFFERVESCENT CITRATE OF MAGNESIA. The London (ihemical News copies, with much approval, from the A merican Jourael of Phar- macy the following recipe for an improved effer- vestiug citrate of magnesia, and extols it as. much superior to the preparations under that name made and used in England. It is made by taking 4 lbs. of powdered citric acid, 1 lbs. 2 of calcined magnesia, 3 lbs. of bicarbonate of soda, 3 lbs. of ~artaric acid, 6 lbs. of powdered white loaf-sugar, essential oil of lemons one- himif a fluid ounce, and alcohol (very strong) as required. To the powdered citric acid the sugar is to be added, and the two thoroughly mixed; then the soda, magnesia, and tartaric acid are to be introduced, and the whole Passed through a No. 4 sieve three times, to insure a thorough mixture. fhe powder is then to be moistened with the strong alcohol and passed through a No. 8 sieve, and placed on a woodan tray to dry, at a temperature of 1200. The oil of lemons is to be added when dry, and the whole is to be bot- tled in well-dried and clean bottles. This prepa- ration can be kept an indefinite length of time. THE OPOSSUM AS A HOUSE PEST IN COSTA RICA. Few portions of the earth are without some mammal which takes up its abode in houses, and infests the premises generally, coming out at night, and causing more or less destruction to the buildings, furniture, etc., as well as doing mischief in the way of carrying off or spoiling food. Most narts of the world are provided with these pests in the form of mice and rats, the best known being the brown or Norway rat, and the small house mouse, both of them natives of the Old World, and accompanying nian in all his

Editor's Scientific Record Editor's Scientific Record 146-153

146 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. not so much as a hint that John Owens ever the crowning labor of the brothers ChamberA came to the United States, or that Fourier had in cheap literature, and its republication a work any disciples here; and under the article Cool- well worthy. of the house which gives simultane- no account of the Chinese coolies, and no in- ously to the American -public three such works formation concerning the aspects of the cooly-la- as Allibones Dictionary of Authors, Thom- bor question in America. Despite this defect, ass Pronouncing Dictionary of Biography and which only a thorough re-editing could have ob- Mythology, and Chamberss Illustrated Ency- viated, we think that Chamberss Encyclopedia clopedia. In paper, typography, printing, and may fairly be considered what it has been called, bin ding it is all that the best taste could ask. RELATION OF BLOOD TO LIFE. IT has generally been supposed that the pres- ence of blood in a state of circulation in the system is absolutely necessary to life, and that.the cessation of such action is always accompanied by death. In a course of recent lectures by Pro- fessor Bernard, of Paris, he refers to this belief, and states that if one of the higher animals be suddenly deprived of its blood it will at once ex~ pire, since the blood nourishes the tissues, and confers its special properties upon them; but that, under certain circumstances, the vital mani- festations may persist for a long time after the blood has been abstracted. This, he states, may be observed at any time in a cold-blooded ani- mal, and especially during the cool season. Thus, a frog in winter will preserve its vitality for t~ven ty-four hours after the withdrawal of its blood; and if one of the abdominal veins be opened and feebly saline or sugared water, or even mer- cury, be injected, until all the blood is replaced bV the liquid, the animal may still move, leap, and manifest all the ordinary signs of life for several days. If the web of the foot be exam- ined by the microscope, a fluid entirely destitute of globules will be seen to circulate in it, show- ing that the blood globules have been removed ~vithont suspending the functions of life. This is stated to be somewhat analogous to the condi- tion of things in the hibernation of animals, and in the cold stage of cholera in man, during which the circulation may apparently cease completely, so that no blood shall flow if an artery be open- ed, and yet all the ordinary manifestations of life continue. In both cases a considerable reduction of temperature is observed, and the functions of the red corpuscles are reduced correspondingly in activity. PHYSIOLOGICAL EFFECTS OF ALCOHOL An important memoir upon the effects of alco- hol upon the human body was lately read before the Royal Society of London, giving the result of experiments prosecuted by two eminent army surgeons upon an intelligent British soldier. This man was perfectly healthy, and entirely un- accustomed to the use of spirits or tobacco in any form; ~. that the effects produced were di- rect, and could be readily appreciated. It was ascertained that small quantities of absolute al- coholsay one or two fluid ouncesgiven in divided doses, seemed to increase his appetite, while four fluid ounces lessened it considerably, and larger quantities almost destroyed it. While this particular effect may have been the result of peculiarities of constitution in the individual experimetited upon, it is also possible that, in case of disease, much smaller quantities of alco- hol might affect the appetite. The number of beats of the heart in 24 hours was increased very largelyto an avera~e of at least 13 per ceut.arid the actual work done by the heart, in excess of the normal task, was found to be equal to that of liftiug 15 tons one foot; and, indeed, during the last two days of the experiment the extra work amounted to 24 tons. The general conclusions, from this experiment and others which we have not time to mention, are very decided that, in case of ordinary health, the use of alcohol, even in small doses, is very much to be reprehended; but that, when the system is run down and enfeebled, it may be given as a stimulant, and for the purpose of causing the organs of the body to act with great- er vigor. EFFERVESCENT CITRATE OF MAGNESIA. The London (ihemical News copies, with much approval, from the A merican Jourael of Phar- macy the following recipe for an improved effer- vestiug citrate of magnesia, and extols it as. much superior to the preparations under that name made and used in England. It is made by taking 4 lbs. of powdered citric acid, 1 lbs. 2 of calcined magnesia, 3 lbs. of bicarbonate of soda, 3 lbs. of ~artaric acid, 6 lbs. of powdered white loaf-sugar, essential oil of lemons one- himif a fluid ounce, and alcohol (very strong) as required. To the powdered citric acid the sugar is to be added, and the two thoroughly mixed; then the soda, magnesia, and tartaric acid are to be introduced, and the whole Passed through a No. 4 sieve three times, to insure a thorough mixture. fhe powder is then to be moistened with the strong alcohol and passed through a No. 8 sieve, and placed on a woodan tray to dry, at a temperature of 1200. The oil of lemons is to be added when dry, and the whole is to be bot- tled in well-dried and clean bottles. This prepa- ration can be kept an indefinite length of time. THE OPOSSUM AS A HOUSE PEST IN COSTA RICA. Few portions of the earth are without some mammal which takes up its abode in houses, and infests the premises generally, coming out at night, and causing more or less destruction to the buildings, furniture, etc., as well as doing mischief in the way of carrying off or spoiling food. Most narts of the world are provided with these pests in the form of mice and rats, the best known being the brown or Norway rat, and the small house mouse, both of them natives of the Old World, and accompanying nian in all his EDITORS SCIENTIFIC RECORD. 147 successive migrations and settlements through- out the earth. In America we have two or three species of native rats that performthe same func- tion; one, the hairy-tailed rat (Ncotome) of the Pacific coast and the Rocky Mountains, con- siderably larger than the house rat; and stir- passing~ it even in its pilfering propensities; the other, the small deer, or white-footed mouse, which occasionally leaves the fields and forests to take up its abode ia human habitations. Both these species are soon displaced by the foreign importation, whenever the lattei~ makes its ap- pearance. In South America, besides the true rats, there are other forms of mammals which occupy a similar relationship to man; and one of the most troublesome and inconvenient of these occurs in Central America~ in Costa Rica especially, in the form of a very small opossum, or opossum rat, which, about the size of the brown rat, has very similar habits as to carrying off food, knocking down articles about the house, and, in a variety of ways, contriving to do much mischief. This animal, like our opossum of North America, can grasP with all four feet; and enjoys the additional power of using its tail as a fifth hand, by means of which it is enabled to pick up objects, or move from place to place, much as the South American monkey can do, and thereby greatly increases its predatory and foraging abilities. In some parts of the country it is a favorite article of food. It has become an associate of man, and, as in the case of the house rat, is scarcely ever found except in his immediate vicinity, especially taking up its abode under the roofs of houses. EXTINCTION OF SIBERIAN MAMMOTH. In the course of a communication upon the Siberian mammoth, made at the last meeting of the British Association, Mr. Howorth gave a sum- mary of the conclusions arrived at after an ex- tended research, embodying them in the following l)ropositioas: First, the mammoth lived in the area where his remains are found; second, a great portion of the area is now a moss-covered tundra, or an ice and boulder heap, as in the Bear Islands; third, no herbivorous animal of the size and abundance of the mammoth could find food in the area now; fourth, although cov- ered with wool, and therefore adapted to a much more rigorous climate than that of India or Af- rica, neither the mammoth nor the hairy rhinoce- ros could survive the present winter temperature of Northern Siberia; fifth, the remains of the food eaten by the mammoth and rhinoceros, found and examined by Russian naturalists, be- long to plants only found now in more southern latitudes. A natural conclusion from the facts in question ~vould seem to be that the climate and physical condition of Siberia have changed very much since the days of the mammoth. In support of this it can be shown that the Arctic Sea, north of Siberia, is retiring rapidly, and expos- ing banks of sand containing mammoth remains, the land gaining rapidly on the sea along the whole coast line. The appearance of the tundra seems to point to a not very remote subsidence, or else an overflow over Siberia, or ~t least a very considerable part of its extent, during which the mammoths were gradually driven to the higher portions of the land, and there ultimately drowned, the remains found being generally at distant in- tervals, and aggregated in small groups or herds, and not scattered indiscriminately. A possible cause for this overflow, according to our author, may have been the draining of the vast internal sea which was supposed to have once existed be- tween the Euxine, or Black Sea, and the Klin- gar Mountains, which may have taken place very suddenly, and, by changing the climate of Asia from an insular to a continental one, brought about a great and sudden reduction in the teni- perature of the north, causing the bodies of the mammoth to be rapidly frozen, at least in some localities, and thus preserving them. AMERICAN SHELLS IN EUROPEAN WATERS. Some interest has lately been excited among English naturalists by the discovery of an Amer- ican fresh-water shell, the Pleaorbis dilatctus of Gould, in the canals near ~Ianchester, England, and some speculation has been entered into as to the origin of its appearance. It was suggested that it may have been introduced in cotton-bales brought over from America, either as a perfect shell or in the form of the egg, and then thrown out with the refuse after the manipulation of the cotton. To this Mr. J. G. Anthony, of Cam- bridge, one of our best American chonchologists, replies by the assurance that it is not an inhab- itant of the cotton-producing States, and there- fore some other reason must be sought to solve the prollem. EUCALYPTUS TREE. The Eecali~ptus !Ilobulus is esteemed in Aus- tralia on account of its wood, which is very hard and superior to teak; and for its leaves, which contain a peculiar camphor-like. essence, known as eucalyptine, which dissolves caoutchouc more readily than sulphide of carbon does. It is sug- gested thatin the southern part of France, and in Spain, this plant would be very useful as a forest tree, since it reaches, in its native climate an enormous height and size; and it may b~ well to consider the propriety of experimenting upon it in California and Arizona,where the tempera- ture and amount of moisture in the soil, as well as the composition of the soil itself, maybe much like that of its native country. Should the l)ecul- iar properties of its leaves as a febrifuge be es- tablished, and its asserted equality and possible superiority to quinine be substantiated, it should be considered an object of the utmost importance to introduce it. CARBUNCLE IN ANIMALS. The subject of carbuncle among animals still continues to exact that attention from physiolo- gists and agriculturists that i~ importance de- mands, and a memoir lately published by M. Davaine sums up what he believes to he the present state of o~zr knowledge on the subject. He states that it is well established, first, that carbuncle can be communicated fu~m infected animals to those that are sound without immedi- ate contactthat is to say, at some distance aparta fact which has suggested the idea of some sort of volatile virus; second, that con- tagion does not manifest itself at a great distance from the animal infected, but always in a limited area; third, that the removal of the infected animals is a means which is usually efficacious in preserving the others from the ulterior ravages 148 hARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. of the malady; fourth, that in the great major- ity of cases the spread of the disease is due al- most entirely to contagion, the so-called spon- taneous instances being too few to he worthy of much consideration. After explaining these va- rious propositions, our author attempts to demon- strate that the active cause of the transmission of the disease from one animal to another is to be found in the bluebottle, or blow-fly, of our premises, and he recounts numerous experiments made to show that not only may the disease be transported by this means, hut that it is the im- mediate cause of its spread, and that the micro- scopic examination of the tongue and of the tips of the feet of this fly reveals the presence of the morbific agencies in the most unmistakable man- ner. He therefore urges that diseased cattle should he isolated at aponsiderable distance from their fellows, and as soon as dead should be bur- ied carefully, so as to prevent any access of the fly to the body. If this he strictly~attended to he feels assured that there will he little, difficulty in restricting the ravages to one or two special cases. Ho~v far these conclusions are founded in fact or in reason we are unable to state; but we have no doubt that the suhject will receive the attention it merits at the hands of all those interested. TEST OF ACTUAL IIIEATII. A positive method by which real death may be distinguished readily from that which is ap- parent only has been for a long time a desidera- tum, and prizes of considerable value have at various times been offered for the announcement of some unerring test to determine between the two. Among others proposcd for this purpose Ys the application of a few drops of a solution of belladonna to the eye. If life be present, in a few mdments a dilatation of the pupil will be observed, very easily noted in comparison with the other eye, which has not been so treated. This is so independent of the condition of the eye that it is even observable in case of com- plete amaurosis or of paralysis, and is apprecia- ble when all the ciliary nerves have beeu cut; and it may even be noted upon an eye that has been removed from the orbit as long as muscu- lar contractility remains. Whenever, therefore, its application produces no effect whatever upon the eye, we may assume that muscular contract- ility has ceased, and, consequently, that life has entirely passed from the body. A precaution is, however, necessary in cases where dilatation has already taken place to the full possibility of the iris, which sometimes occurs in a case of appar- ent death, particularly when caused by the use of belladonna. ~ counteraction is therefore nec- essary in this instance, which is to be effected by means of the Calabar bean, which, if life be still present, will cause the pupil t~ contract. MICROSCOPIC EXAMINATION OF VARIOUS ATMOSPHERES. A communication was recently presented to the Royal Irish Academy by Dr. Sig~rson upon the microscopic appearances shown by special portions of the atmosphere. In iron-factory air he found ~carb9n and ash and iron, the iron being hollow balls measuring the two-thousandth part of an inch in diameter, with shells only the thirty-thousandth of an inch in thickness, and quite translucent. In shirt-factory air there were filaments and fragments of linen and cot- ton, with minute eggs. The air of fanning~mills and oat-mills had fibrous fragments, starchy grains, and spores; Antimony was found in the air of printing-offices, and is believed to be pres- ent to an injurious extent in type foundries. Sta- ble air was found to contain cuticle, scales, and hair; and hair-dressers establishments had a sim- ilar atmosphere. Tobacco smoke proved to cons tam globules of nicotine; while the air inhaled by tea-tasters was discovered to contain tea sprink- led with fibrous tissue and drops of powerful nar- cotic oil. PHYSIOLOGY OF MEAT EXTRACTS. We find in the scientific journals additibual assurances of the value of extract of meat (spe- cial reference being made to that of Liebig) as a stimulant. The extract is said to be much more efficient in this respect than tea or spirits, since it acts, in addition, as a nutritive material. By itself it is not considered as a substitute for or- dinary food; but mixed with bread or biscuit, hard-boiled eggs, etc., or prepared in the form of soup, it is very beneficial. One writer in the Chemical News says that, when dissolved in hot water as a soup, or thinly spread upon bread or biscuit, it gives strength almost inimediately, and stands in the sai~e relation to ordinary food that petroleum does to coal, enabling power to be speedily obtained. A special experiment was made by this gentleman upon the extract as an aid in long and fatiguing exercise, and he found that for exhaustion attendant upon long walks nothing he could use had any thing like the same beneficial effect. REPRODUCTION IN NAIS.. It is well known to most students of natural history that the old saying, every thing living is born of an egg, is by no means universally true; but that, ~vhile reproduction is generally accomplished by means of the egg, other meth- ods by which the species is propagated are al- most infinite in variety. An interesting illustration of a peculiar meth- od of reproduction may be seen in the case of a certain form of marine worm called the Nais, in which an individual first diVides up into two parts, leaving the head on one and the tail on the other, and which become complete animals by the development of a tail on the anterior sec- tion and a head on the posterior. Each one of these, ho~vever, has a further mode of devel- opment in the form of buds, which appear at the posterior extremity, and which, when thrown off; become as many additional animals. NEW AUSTRALIAN FISH. During the last few years several forms of ani- mal life have been brought to light which had been supposed to have entirely disappeared from among the living. The dredge in the deep seas has been the most efficient agent in such revela- tions; but we now have to record tbo discovery of a fresh-water type in Queensland, Australia, which rivals or even surpasses in interest any of those discovered in the salt-waters. The newly discovered animal is a fish which is apparently most closely related,. among livi~ng species, to the mud-fishes of Africa and South America EDITORS SC1~NTIFIC RECORD. 149 (Protopterus and Lepidosiren of naturalists),, but less aberrant, and in the structure of the pec- toral and ventral fins very analogous to those fishes of the Devonian epoch which are known as Grossopterygians, and to which most of the spe- cies described by Hugh Miller in his Old Red Sandstone~ belong. The mud-fishes of Africa and South America depart so m& wh from the ordi- nary type of fishes, and approach the amphibian reptiles in so many respects, that at first the opin- ion that they were amphibians was very preva- lent; but of late vearsthe fish theory has pre- ponderated, and the discovery of the new Aus- tralian animal completely established the latter view, and furnished a link connecting the pre- viously known living forms with the ancient crossopterygians. The discovery has been an- nounced by Mr. Gerard Krefft, the curator and secretary of the Australian Museum at Sydney, who has even referred the species to the supposed extinct genus Ceratodus, and named it C. for- steri; but doubt will be entertained by many ~vhether it is really so nearly allied to that genus as supposed by Mr. Krefft. The, species very improperly called the Burnett or .Dawsoe salmon, from the t~vo rivers of Queensland in ~vhich it is most abundant, has flesh colored like the salmon, and is iuch esteemed as food. It sometimes attains a length of six feet, or even more. ACTION OF CHLOROFORM ON PLANTS. Some interesting results of experiments upon the influence of chloroform on plants have lately been published. In one instance a Mahonia plant in bloom was inclosed in a glass bell, in which some cotton was placed, slightly saturated with chloroform. The stamens of this plant, as is well known to physiologists, resemble those of the barberry in springing back against the pis- til when irritated. At the end of one minute after the commencement of the experiment these stamens exhibited great tetanic rigidity, and re- sisted all attempts at irritation. Exposed again to the action of the atmosphere, after the lapse of eight or ten minutes the irritability reappear- ed, at first feebly, and more fully in the course of twenty-five or thirty minutes. When the ac- tion of the chloroform was continued for ten or twelve minutes the flower assumed its original tint, but the stamens did not recover their sea- and in sibiliry on exposnre to the atmosphere, and the next day showed signs of having been complete- ly killed. LONGEVITY OF ANIMALS. An interesting memoir has been recently pub- lished by Mr. Lankester, of Oxford, in regard to the longevity of animals of different species, and in this we are informed, that an actinia has been kept for 42 years in an aquarium, and is still alive. Some crustacea are kno~vn to attain a great age; one species, however, reproduces and dies in from two to three months. In the insect the perfect form varies in its duration of life from some mouths to afew hours, dying on reproducti6n, while the age of the larvm ranges from seventeen years (at least, as in the case of the American locust) to a week. Fish, accord- ing to the author, have great tenacity of life, in one instance a carp having been known on good evidence to reach the age of 150, and a pike 267 years. This fish is said to have weighed 350 pounds, and to be 19 feet long, having been kept in a fish-pond in Germany. The toad is said to live 36, and the frog 12 to 16 years, while tor- toises are dredibly believed to attain a much greater age than this. Cases have been known in which certain hawks and ravens have been preserved alive over 150 years. Whales and ele- I)hants are believed to reach an age of from ona to two hundred years. The horse lives 25, occa- sionally reaching 40 years; the ox 15 to 20; the sheep and goat 12 years. OZONE PRODUCED BY FLOWERS AND ESSENCES. According to Professor Montegazza, certain vegetable essences exercise an important influ- ence in the production of atmospheric ozone, this being most marked in the case of mint, cloves, lavender, lemon, thyme, nutmeg, etc., which in contact with atmospheric oxygen in light cause the development of a large quantity of ozone, equal, if not superior, in amount to that produced by electricity or by the decompo- sition of the permanganate of potash. Accord- ing to the author the oxidation of these essences is one of the moit convenient means of prodncing ozone, since, even when in very minute quantity, a great effect is accomplished. In most cases these essences requi~e for the purpose the direct rays of the sun; occasionally the effect is ex- tremely slight. In certain instances the action, commenced in solar light, was found to continue in darkness. In some experiments a vessel per- fumed with essence, and then washed with alco- hol and perfectly dried, still developed a propor- tionate quantity of ozone, provided it conteined a slight odor of the essence. In addition to the substances mentioned, spirits of turpentine, Co- logne-water, and other perfumes and aromatic tinctures, are also capable of accomplishing the same result. Certain flowers, as the narcissus an(l hyacinth, also develop ozone in closed ves- sels. As an inference drawn by the professor from these experiments, he recommends the cul- tivation of flo~vers in marshy districts and in places infected with animal emanations, since the ozone thus produced will tend to destroy them. For the same reason flowers of agree- able odor should be cultivated about residences gardens, as this may. he considered a di- rect sanitary precaution of much importance. INCREASE OF TEMPERATURE BY NERVOUS ACTION. We have already refermed to some experiments of M. Schiff, of Florence, upon the increase of texupeinture in the nerves and nervous centres, resulting from sensorial and sensitive impres- sions. This gentleman has recently published a fresh series of experiments, chiefly upon fowls, in the course of which thermo-electrical piles of copper and bismuth, small but very carefully constructed, were inserted into the brains of these aimimals, and the wounds allowed to heal, which they were found to do hy the third day, care be- ing taken to keep the subjects perfectly quiet during the experiment. This was effected by stretching their legs out, behind them, and cov- ering the body with .a porcelain vessel, so jhat the head alone remained free. The wires is- suing from each side of the head of the patient, 150 IIARPE1VS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. and connected with the battery within the brain, were then attached to a most delicate galvanome- ter, special precaution being taken even against the slightest development of the electrical cur- rent from the increased tension of one wire over the other, occasioned by the movement of the bird. When the head thus confined was at ab solute rest the exposed surface of the animal was irritated by pinching or touching the crest or feet, or by pulling the tail feathers, or else the auditory centres were roused by a sudden.~ noise, or the visual perceptions stimulated by moving a colored object in front Qf the eyes. In all such instances complete evidence was obtained that the cerebral action was accompanied by an ele- vation of temperature. In regard to the last-mentioned experiment it was ascertained that the impression was twofold, and that the excitation was due partly to fear and partly to the psychical operation involved in the act of vision, since by frequent repetitions of the experiment the element of fear was no longer continued, as the animal became accustomed to it, and this factor being taken out, the move- ment of the indicator of the galvanometer fell from 12 to a constant of 8. CANINE MADNESS IN FRANCE. We have already referred to some investiga- tions upon canine madness by M. Bouley, of France. In a recent communication this gen- tleman has summed up the results of his investi- gations for the past six years, and during that time he finds evidence that 320 persons were bit- ten by rabid animals in. France, of whom 129 were injured fatally, forming a percentage of .31. In 123 cases no ill results were reported as having ensued, the percentage, therefore, of innocuity there being .38. Of the 08 cases upon which no positive evidence was presented, it is also probable that in the greater number the bite was not followed by any fatal or serious re- sult, as these in all probability would have been reported had they proved fatal, instead of the contrary. We may confidently infer, therefore, that, as far as France is concerned, more than half of all cases of bites by rabid animals are not followed by the death of the subject. Of the 320 cases in question 284 were inflicted by male, and 26 by female dogs, 5 by cats, and 5 by wolves. There were no instances occurring among them of rabies from the bite of man, or of any herbiv- orous animals. The cases were most frequent in spring, and less so in autumn, although there was comparatively little difference with the sea- son, the winter showing fully one-fourth of the total number. From this it follows that the hot weather of summer is by no means so provoca- tive of the disease as is usually imagined. TYPHOID FEVER. In a recent article upon typhoid fever, by M. Morache, it is stated that this disease appears to be due to the introduction of a virus, which doubtless acts as an effusion or a ferment; and that, while theory would suggest the value of an application of creosote, the result of actual prac- tice indicates the propriety of its employment even in preference to carbolic acid, acting as it does upon the ferment, and modifying, if not annihilating, the morbid effusion. According to this gentleman, the action of the creosote pro- duces a diminution of the intensity of the fever, a diminution in the duration of the febrile actioa, and a diminution of the local and general typhoid symptoms, and ci~uses favorable local action upon the digestive functions. MR. SWAINSONS COLLECTION OF BIRDS. Among the ornithologists whose labors have served very greatly to extend the bounds of their fascinating bianch of science by the description of large numbers of species, and their proper illustration by means of figures, few have been more conspicuous than Mr. William Swainson; and his papers on the birds of Mexico, Brazil, etc., have been constantly referred to by subse- quent investigators. His labors in this line ex- tended over the second to the fourth decade of the present century; and, as might reasonably be expected, his descriptions are sometimes not quite as complete as the present state of science demands. ihe types of his descriptions of spe- cies have been for some years in the possession of the University of Cambridge; and we are pleased to learn that this collection, numbering about 2750 specimens, has been recently ar- ranged under the direction of Professor Alfred Newton, himself an ornithologist of great emi- nence. In addition to this series, the same museum also contains the recendy arranged collection of Mr. H. E. Strickland, another English ornithologist of note, and likewise rich in types of original descriptions. ORGANIC EFFECT OF DIFFERENTLY COLORED LIGIIT. According to M. Pouchet, certain rays of light are particularly favorable to the ~develop- ment in organic infusions of infusorial life, while other rays are most favorable to the growth of microscopic forms of a vegetable character. [bus, white light is said to be best fitted for the former result; after which comes the red ray, then the violet, the blue, and final- ly the green. On the contrary, for the devel- opment of vegetable organisms the green ray is best fitted; next to this the blue and violet, and lastly the white light; the red ray hinder- ing the development of these organisms. An experiment of a similar character has recently been made by Mr. Wake in regard to the effect of differently colored light upon milk; and he informs us that the general result of his experi- ments with this substance corresponds with those mentioned by M. Ponchet. According to his statements, the fungoid filaments of the milky infusion exposed to the green light were larger than those of the other infusions, while the tend- ency to the formation of these filaments under the influence of yellow light was but feebly ex- hibited, although Bacteria were very plentifuL HUXLEYS CLASSIFICATION OF RACES. Professor Huxley, at a recent meeting of the Ethnological Society of London, divided man- kind into five distinct types, distinguishing them by their color, character of the hair, and form of the skull. These types he named the Aus- tralioid, found in Australia, the Deccan, and the valley of the Nile; the Negroid, including the Negroes and Bushmen of Africa, and the Negritos of New Guinea, Tasmania, etc.; tIme EDITORS SCiENTiFIC RECORD. 151 Zanthockroic, distributed through Ireland, East- ern Britain, Scandinavia, North and Central Germany, through Eastern Europe into Asia as far as Northwestern India, and found also in North Africa; the Mielaaockroic, situated be- tween the Zanthochroic and Austral~oid peo- ples; and the Mongoloid, a large and somewhat ill-defined group, occupying Central Asia, the two Americas, and Polynesia. COLORED STARCH. A new article for the laundry has recently been introduced into Europe, and has found much favor. It consists in a starch of different shades of color, by means of which any desired ~jut may be imparted to a dress in doing it up for a hail or party, and thereby enabling the owner to appear in sufficient variety of color without a corresponding number of dresses, as formerly. The most highly prized of these new starches is the crimson,, which is readily pre- pared by dissolving three parts of fnchsine in twenty parts of glycerine, the fuchsine being first rubbed up in a mortar with a little water to a thick broth, and the glycerine subsequently stirred in. By this operation the fuchsiae be- comes completely dissolved without using any alcohol as a solvent. One hundred and fifty parts of finely rubbed up starch are to be stirred into the mixture in question, then dried and placed upon hurdles upon which nasized print- ing-paper had previously been spread out.. To apply this in the st.arching of a white dress, the latter is to he first washed, and a portion of the starch treated with boiling water, as in the or- dinary preparation of starch, and applied to the dress in the usual manner of starching. The dress is then to be dried, and after drying to he moistened a little, and ironed in the, common way. BLEACHING BY OIL OF TURPENTINE. A German author recommends the use of oil of turpentine in bleaching white goods, to be ap- plied by dissolving one part in three parts of strong alcohol, and placing a table-spoonful of the mixture in the water for the last rinsing. The clothes are to he immersed in this, well wrung out, and placed in the open air to dry. The bleaching action of the oil consists in its changing oxygen into ozone when exposed to the light, and in this process the turpentine disap- pears, leaving no trace behind. - CAUSE OF MOTION OF GLACIERS. fastened along the edges. In one case, where the movement was accurately measnred on a board inclined about i8~, of a sheet of lead one-eighth of an inch thick, nine feet in length, and weighing twenty-eight pounds, he found that during some days the descent amounted to from one.-quarter to one-half an inch, the action at night being almost inappreciable. LARGE SCOTTISH SALMON. Mr. Frank Bucklaud, in his journal, Land and Water, describes what he considers to be the largest salmon of modern times, and lately caught in the Tay. Its weight amounted to 70 pounds, its length to 53 inches, and its girth to 31 inches. The wholesale price of the fish amounted to an equivalent in American gold of about $48. It would not be difficult, however, to match this salmon with specimens fromAlaska, some of which, indeed, are said to greatly exceed it in weight. Even the trout of our great lakes not unfrequently reach an equal size, and, in fact, are said to attain that of 100 pounds or more. We have recently seen the notice of one caught at Racine, Wisconsin, weighing 52 pounds. .AYMAItA INDIANS OF BOLIVIA. The Aymara Indians of Bolivia and Peru are described by Mr. I). }~orbes as a small, thick-set people, with large heads, enormous trunks, and short limbs. The capacity of the thorax is con- sidered extraordinarily large, being adapted to meet the requirements of respiration in a rarefied atmosphere, as these people dwell at an elevation of froma eight to sixteen thousaimd feet above the sea leveL The proportions of the lower limbs are extremely curious, the thigh being shorter than the legs, and the heel is inconspicuous. Their color is said to vary from copper red to yellowish-brown and blackish-brown. GLUCOSE IN FERMENTING LIQUIDS. A paper was recently presented before the Chemical Society of London upon fermentation, in which it was stated, as an important deduc- tion from experiments, that tIme addition ef glu- cose to fermenting liquids, especially to the juice of the grape, helps to exhaust the fermentative element, and thus imparts to the fermented liquid a greater keeping power, and also, that ~achm fer- ment has its favorite soil. In the course. of home remarks upon the paper it was stated that the yeast organism, though generally called a plant, is rather an animal in its fnnctions, since tIme products it secretes are less complicated thea those it takes in, and it absorbs no heat like plants, nor does it require light for its vital proc- esses. An interesting article has lately been publish- ed by Rev. Henry Mosely, upon the cause of the descent of the ice of the glaciers, in which he endeavors to show by experiment and elabo- ORGANIC MATTER IN WATER. rate mathematical calculation that the effect is produced by the absorption of heat from the In a paper on organic matter in water Dr. sun or the atmosphere, which causes an expan- Keiseb states that the addition of a few drops of sion of the different particles, the tendency of sewer water to cane-sugar solution starts a kind which is to produce a movement in the direction of fermentation) and when examined under a of gravitation. It is not necessary that the heat microscope the turbid liquid is found to be full be very great, since the continued action of a of small spherical cells. Boiling does not seem moderate temperature will produce as great an to destroy the vitality of these organisms, fil- effect as a shorter duration of more intense heat. tration through a good bed of animal charcoal He states, in the course of his remarks, that pre- being the only effectual mode of removing them. cisely a similar phenomenon may be observed It is, however, necessary to renew the charcoal when a sheet of lead is .placed upon the surface from time to time, else it loses its purifying qual- of a roof, no matter how low time pitch, if not ity, and leaves the water as bad as before. These ~52 HARPERS NEW MONThLY MAGAZINE. cells are quite peculiar in their character, and are not removed by filtering the water through the finest Swedish paper; and wherever they are found in water apparently pure in its source their occurrence may .be directly referred to contami- nation by sewage water. TEMPERATURE OF THE CRANIAL CAVITY. Mendel, a German physiologist, has recently substantiated the observations of Fick, who shows that the normal temperature of the cranial cavity is lower than that of the body generally, the dif- ference in the case of the rabbit, while in health, between the temperature of the cranial cavity and that of the rectum amounting to from 1.25 to 1.80 of a degree (Fahrenheit), while under the influence of chloroform the difference is still more striking. The application of this an~sthet- ic usually has the effect of reducing the temper- ature of the entire body, that of the cranial cay- i~y continuing to be less than elsewhere. Chioral also has the same effect, the depression amount- ing to several tenths of a degree. On the other hand, we are informed that the temperature of the body rises after taking a medicinal dose of morphine; but that ~~hen given in excess it falls. In poisoning by alcohol the temperature of the cranial cavity is said to rise to such a degree as to exceed that of the rectum. RATIO OF hEIGHT TO. WEIGHT OF THE HUMAN BODY. From the many careful observations that have been made during past years in regard to the statistics of the human frame, the atteml)t has been made to determine, approximately, the av- erage ratio, in perfect health, between a given height of the body and its weight, so as to indi- cate whether any individual case exhibits an ex- cess or a deficiency of the proper proportion. As a result of the observatioas made on this subject, we are informed that, for the height of five feet, the normal weight is one hundred and fifteen pounds, and that an additional inch in hei~ht should be accompatiled by an increase of about five pounds in weight. From this it will be seen that if the proper weight of a person five feet high be one hundred and fifteen pounds, one of five and a half feet in height should be one hun- dred and forty-five pounds, while an individual six feet high should weigh one hundred and sev- enty-five pounds. While this law is quite reliable above five feet, it is also proximately correct for a considerable number of cases below, as well as above, the starting-point; although, in individual instances, especially in the case of children and growing persons, there is a wide difference of ~veight with heights below five feet. As a gener- al rule, we may consider any variation in weight fiom the ratios just given. to depend on excess or deficiency in the development of the fatty tissue, which, in a normal human body, weigh- ing one hundred and fifty-four pounds, and five feet eight inches in heiaht, should amount to twelve pounds. Dr. Lankester, from whom we borrow these re- marks, in discussing the probable object of the fat of the human body, states that it appears, in the first place, to be a reserve of material for producing muscular force when needed, animals growing fat in summer, but becoming thin in winter from the demand on the stock for heat- Lug purposes. hibernating animals, which are fat and sleek before going to sleep, wake in the spring lean and emaciated from the loss of fat in maintaining the necessary animal beat. If, therefore, the supply of fat be less than the average,, we may conclude that disease in some form.has actually commenced, or may be antici- pated; while if there he a redundancy, it, may be looked upon as likely to interfere more or less with the functions of Ilfe. It is for this reason that the value of such investigations is vindicated, and any variation from the weight which should correspond to the height, accord- ing to the above-named table, should invite a critical inquiry in regard to the health of the in- dividual. Thus, one of the earliest symptoms of consumption is a tendency toloss of weight this being observable in many persons long be- fore any symptoms of tuberculous deposit ap- pear. At this stage of the disease it is main- tained that the use of substances containing fat, such as cod-liver oil, etc., in supplying the de- ficiency of fat, will have a very decided effect iu checking or even preventing the ultimate ravages of the disease. In the case of the excess of fat, where this material is uniformly diffused throughout the body, it is carried with comparatively little diffi- culty, and may involve little or no inconvenience. But when accumulated in particular regions it is likely to interfere with the functions of cer- tain organs, and produce grave results. Most of us are familiar with the case of Mr. I3anting, an En~lishman, who published a pamphlet to illustrate the effect of his personal experiences in reducing corpulence. But it may be ques- tioned, in many instances, whether this attempt is entirely safe; and the advice of a competent physician should in all cases . be invited as to whether the actual accumulation of fat, or its probable increase, is such as to render it ex- pedient to resort to any special change of diet, or other agencies, since it is believed that many persons have materially shortened their lives by attempts of the kind in question. And it is sug- gested generally with regard to stout people, or those who weigh more than their height should require, that if they suffer no inconvenience from their weight they might better let well enough alone; although it may not be amiss in such cases to avoid any unnecessary or excessive use of fatty food, and such substances as have a spe~ cml tendency to produce fat. CURRENTS OF THE NORTH ATLANTIC. Professor Wyvill Thompson, in a late lecture upon deep-sea temperatures, as shown by the recent explorations of the English, Swedish, and American governments, remarks that the North Atlantic consists, first, of a great sheet of.warm water, of which the most marked portion passes through the Strait of Florida, the whole being generally called the Gulf Stream, of varying depth, but reaching off the west coast of Ireland and Spain a profundity of 800 to 900 fathoms; secondly, of a general indraught of antarctic water, compensating at all events for that part of the Gulf Stream which is deflected southward; and thirdly, of a comparatively small quantity of arctic water, which, flowing through two or three narrow chanaels, replaces that portion of the Gulf Stream which makes its way into the Arctic Sea. EDITORS HISTORICAL RECORD. 153 CONTINUITY OF LIQUID AND GASEOUS FORMS OF MATTER. We have been accustomed to consider matter as presenting itself in the three different stages of solid, liquid, and gaseous, and to assume that these are separated by well-marked boundaries. Whatever may be the case as to the relation- ships of solids and liquids, late investigations have shown that there is no distinction between the liquid and the gaseous conditions of matter. In a recent lecture by Dr. Andre~vs many inter- esting experiments were presented to prove this fact. In this lecture, selecting carbonic acid as his illustration, the experimenter stated that at any temperature betweenI 34 Fahr. and 87.6 Fahr., under the ordinary pressure of the atmosphere, it is unquestionably in a state of gas or vapor, and that if, within these limits, we take a given bulk and gradually augment the pressure, the volume will steadily diminish, although not entirely uniformly, until we reach the point at which liquefaction begins. A sud- den fall or diminution of volume now takes place, and, with a little care, it is easy so to arrange the experiment that part of the car- bonic acid will he in the liquid and part in the gaseous state, the two conditions of matter thus coexisting in the same tube and under the same external pressure. If, however, the experiment be made at a tem- perature ahove 87.6 Fahr. the result is very differ- ent. Under a pressure of. seventy-four atmos- pheres the densities of liquid and gaseous carbon- ic acid, as xvell as all their other properties, be- come absolutely identical. The most careful ob- servation fails to discover any heterogeneity, at this or a higher temperature, in carbonic acid, when its volume is so reduced as to occupy a space in ~vhich, at lower temperatures, a mixture of gas and liquid would have been formed. Thus all distinctions of state have disappeared, and the carbonic acid has become one homogeneous fluid, which can not, by change of pressure, be separated into two distinct physical conditions. Other fluids experimented upon under similar circumstances gave parallel results, and we are entitled, therefore, to draw the conclusion that the gaseous and ordinary liquid states are simply extreme forms of the same condition of matter, and can be made to pass from one into the other by a series of gradations so gentle that the passage shall no~vhere present any break of continuity. UNITED STATES. OUR Record closes October 25.Elections ~vere held October 11 in five States: Penn- sylvania, Ohio, Indiana, Iowa, and Nebraska. In the first-mentioned State only members of the Ilouse of Representatives for the Forty-third Congress were elected; in the other four State officers were elected, and also Congressmen. We have not the official statements, and can only give the . approximate results. In Ne- braska David Butler, Republican, was elected Governor by about 3000 majority, and John Taffe, Republican, was re-elected to Congress. In Ohio, Indiana, and Iowa the highest State officer elected was the Secretary of State. Ohio is estimated to have gone Republican by over 16,000, Indiana Democratic by 2000, Iowa Re- publican by over 25,000. In these five States the Democrats have gained six or seven members of Congress. The Penn- sylvania delegation stands 12 straight Repub- heans, 1 independent Republican, and 11 Dem ocrats, while the present delegation is composed of 18 Republicans and 6 Ijemocrats. In Ohio the Congressional delegation stands relatively the same as at present, 14 Republicans and S Democrats. The Indiana delegation will stand 6 Republicans to 5 Democrats, instead of 7 to 4 as at present. Iowa re-elects her entire Repub- lican delegation.Colorad~ Territory, on the 11th, elected a Republican dele0ate to Congress by a majority of nearly 1400. The President has appointed Senator 0. P. Morton, of Indiana, to succeed Mr. Motley as United States Minister to England. One of the most destructive freshets ever known in this country occurred in Virginia dur- ing the last week in September, attended by great loss of life and property. At the city. of Richmond the water overflowed the streets, so that ferry-boats were used instead of horse-cars. Buildings and property were carried away, and communication with the surrounding country cut off. At harpers Ferry a large part of the vil- lage was submerged, many substantial buildings destroyed, and forty lives lost. Three women andthree children were drowned at Lynchburg. The Potorpac rose several feet, carrying fiway the bridges between Washington and the Vir- ginia shore. The Chesapeake and Ohio Canal was seriously damaged, and the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad above Harpers Ferry was swept away. The losses at and near Lynchburg were estitnated at $1,500,000. General Robert R. Lee, President of Wash- ington College, in Lexington, Virginia, died on the 12th of October, in the sixty-fourth year of his age. EUROPE. Since the commencement of the siege of Paris, the gates of which were closed September 16, the reports which we have received by telegraph from day to day have been so contradictory that no reliance can be placed upon them. The city was invested by the Crown Princes of Prussia and Saxonythe. head-quarters of the former being at Versailles, to the southwest, and those of the latter at Grand Trembloy, on the north- east. Between these were the Kings head-quar- ters, since removed to Versailles. The French, under General Ducrot, with four divisions, made an offensive reconnoissance forward on the 19th of September, and attempted the dislodg- meat of the Germans south of Paris. After se- vere loss, General Ducrot was compelled to ic-

Editor's Historical Record Editor's Historical Record 153-154

EDITORS HISTORICAL RECORD. 153 CONTINUITY OF LIQUID AND GASEOUS FORMS OF MATTER. We have been accustomed to consider matter as presenting itself in the three different stages of solid, liquid, and gaseous, and to assume that these are separated by well-marked boundaries. Whatever may be the case as to the relation- ships of solids and liquids, late investigations have shown that there is no distinction between the liquid and the gaseous conditions of matter. In a recent lecture by Dr. Andre~vs many inter- esting experiments were presented to prove this fact. In this lecture, selecting carbonic acid as his illustration, the experimenter stated that at any temperature betweenI 34 Fahr. and 87.6 Fahr., under the ordinary pressure of the atmosphere, it is unquestionably in a state of gas or vapor, and that if, within these limits, we take a given bulk and gradually augment the pressure, the volume will steadily diminish, although not entirely uniformly, until we reach the point at which liquefaction begins. A sud- den fall or diminution of volume now takes place, and, with a little care, it is easy so to arrange the experiment that part of the car- bonic acid will he in the liquid and part in the gaseous state, the two conditions of matter thus coexisting in the same tube and under the same external pressure. If, however, the experiment be made at a tem- perature ahove 87.6 Fahr. the result is very differ- ent. Under a pressure of. seventy-four atmos- pheres the densities of liquid and gaseous carbon- ic acid, as xvell as all their other properties, be- come absolutely identical. The most careful ob- servation fails to discover any heterogeneity, at this or a higher temperature, in carbonic acid, when its volume is so reduced as to occupy a space in ~vhich, at lower temperatures, a mixture of gas and liquid would have been formed. Thus all distinctions of state have disappeared, and the carbonic acid has become one homogeneous fluid, which can not, by change of pressure, be separated into two distinct physical conditions. Other fluids experimented upon under similar circumstances gave parallel results, and we are entitled, therefore, to draw the conclusion that the gaseous and ordinary liquid states are simply extreme forms of the same condition of matter, and can be made to pass from one into the other by a series of gradations so gentle that the passage shall no~vhere present any break of continuity. UNITED STATES. OUR Record closes October 25.Elections ~vere held October 11 in five States: Penn- sylvania, Ohio, Indiana, Iowa, and Nebraska. In the first-mentioned State only members of the Ilouse of Representatives for the Forty-third Congress were elected; in the other four State officers were elected, and also Congressmen. We have not the official statements, and can only give the . approximate results. In Ne- braska David Butler, Republican, was elected Governor by about 3000 majority, and John Taffe, Republican, was re-elected to Congress. In Ohio, Indiana, and Iowa the highest State officer elected was the Secretary of State. Ohio is estimated to have gone Republican by over 16,000, Indiana Democratic by 2000, Iowa Re- publican by over 25,000. In these five States the Democrats have gained six or seven members of Congress. The Penn- sylvania delegation stands 12 straight Repub- heans, 1 independent Republican, and 11 Dem ocrats, while the present delegation is composed of 18 Republicans and 6 Ijemocrats. In Ohio the Congressional delegation stands relatively the same as at present, 14 Republicans and S Democrats. The Indiana delegation will stand 6 Republicans to 5 Democrats, instead of 7 to 4 as at present. Iowa re-elects her entire Repub- lican delegation.Colorad~ Territory, on the 11th, elected a Republican dele0ate to Congress by a majority of nearly 1400. The President has appointed Senator 0. P. Morton, of Indiana, to succeed Mr. Motley as United States Minister to England. One of the most destructive freshets ever known in this country occurred in Virginia dur- ing the last week in September, attended by great loss of life and property. At the city. of Richmond the water overflowed the streets, so that ferry-boats were used instead of horse-cars. Buildings and property were carried away, and communication with the surrounding country cut off. At harpers Ferry a large part of the vil- lage was submerged, many substantial buildings destroyed, and forty lives lost. Three women andthree children were drowned at Lynchburg. The Potorpac rose several feet, carrying fiway the bridges between Washington and the Vir- ginia shore. The Chesapeake and Ohio Canal was seriously damaged, and the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad above Harpers Ferry was swept away. The losses at and near Lynchburg were estitnated at $1,500,000. General Robert R. Lee, President of Wash- ington College, in Lexington, Virginia, died on the 12th of October, in the sixty-fourth year of his age. EUROPE. Since the commencement of the siege of Paris, the gates of which were closed September 16, the reports which we have received by telegraph from day to day have been so contradictory that no reliance can be placed upon them. The city was invested by the Crown Princes of Prussia and Saxonythe. head-quarters of the former being at Versailles, to the southwest, and those of the latter at Grand Trembloy, on the north- east. Between these were the Kings head-quar- ters, since removed to Versailles. The French, under General Ducrot, with four divisions, made an offensive reconnoissance forward on the 19th of September, and attempted the dislodg- meat of the Germans south of Paris. After se- vere loss, General Ducrot was compelled to ic- 154 hARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. treat under cover of the forts. The environs of Paris were reduced to ruins before the siege, the trees and houses having been destroyed to in- crease the effectiveness of the fire from the forts and to enhance the difficulty of hostile approach. The roads, also, had been broken up and ob- structed, the tunnels and bridges being demol- ished; and this circumstance has greatly de- layed the operations of the besiegers. The re- port of violent disturbances in Paris, after its iso- lation, appears to have had little foundation. That some trouble was caused by thieves and disorderly persons is sho~vn by General Trochus proclamation against such offenders. The de- fensive force of the city consists of 250 battal- ions of National Guardsabout 375,000 men in addition to the regular troops. The entire force, according to some French accounts, con- sists of 600,000 men; but this is probably an ex- aggerated estimate. Great manufactories of arms and ammunition were set up; the roads leading to the gates were made impassable, and draw-bridges were substituted for those spanning the moat; all the gates and sally-ports were pro- vided with fresh bastions; the Seine was dammed up and the water - works turned to account; the books of the important libraries were depos- ited in the cellars; watchmen were posted in lofty towers to give the alarm in case of fire, and large reservoirs of water were erected in the vi- cinity of public buildings. For the better regu- lation of the food supplies, the Minister of Agri- culture issued an edict that, after September 28, there should be daily placed at the disposal of the citizens 500 oxen and 5000 sheep. The interview between Jules Favre and Count VonBismarck looking to peace negotiations, near the close of September, resulted in utter failure. The Count demanded the surrender of Stras- bourg, Toul, and Verdun as the condition of an armistice to allow an opportunity for th~ elec- tion of a Constituent Assembly. The Germans, he insisted, must, as a guarantee of future secu- rity, keep the departments of the Upper and Low- er Rhine, of the Moselle, with Chateau Salins, and Soissons. After the decision of the pro- visional government to refuse the offered con- ditions the following proclamation was issued: Touns, September 24. Before the investment of Paris M. Jules Favre wished to have an interview with Count Bismarck, in order to ascertain the disposition of Prussia. The following is the declaration of the enemy: Prussia desires to continue the war, so as to reduce France to the rank of a second-rate power; Prussia wants Alsace and Lorraine as far as Metz hy right of conquest, and, to consent to an armistice, she dares to ask the surrender of Strasbourg, Toni, and Mont Vakrien. The inhabitants of Paris, in their ex- asperation, would rather bury themselves in the ruins of their city than accept such terms. To such impu- dent pretensions we can only reply by fighting to the bitter end. France accepts the contest, and relies upon all her children. The mission of M. Thiers to Vienna and St. Petersburg does not seem to have led to any more satisfactory result jhaa that of M. Favre. Toul was surrendered September 23, after a bombardment of s~x hours. There were surren- dered 109 officers, 2240 privates, and 197 can- non. The surrender of Toul was followed, five days later, by that of Strasbourg. The pris- oners capturednumbered 17,000 men, including National Guards, and 451 officers. Among the spoils were 170 cannon, 1500 horses, 2,000,000 francs in the military chest, and government property in the bank estimated at 8,000,000 more. Several of the principal streets and sub-~~ urbs had been reduced to ruins. The. inhabit- ants had been driven to their cellars for safety. The Cathedral suffered much, but not irrepara- bly. The famous astronomical clock was unin- jured.The town of Soissons capitulated Octo- ber 15. Four thousand French prisoners were captured. The balloon seems to be the only means of es- cape fioxa Paris. In this way M. Gambetta, a member of the French cabinet, left Paris Oc- tober 7. His journey was a perilous one, his balloon having descend~d two or three times in close proximity to the Prussians. The following proclamation was issued on ihe 9th of October by M. Gambetta at Tours: By the order of the republican government I have left Paris to transmit to you the hopes of the Parisians and others of those who are seeking to deliver France from foreigners. Paris, invested for seventeen days, presents the spectacle of two million men forgetting their differences to withstand the invader, who expect- ed civil discord. The revolution found Paris without guns or arms of any kind. Four hundred thousand of the National Guard are now armed, and one hundred thousand Mo- hues and sixty thousand regulars are assembled. The foundries are casting cannon. The women make a million cartridges daily. Each battalion of Nationals has two mitrailleuses and field-pieces, and is prepared for sorties. The forts are manned hy the marines, and are supplied with artillery of the greatest excellence, and served by gunners the first in the world. Ilith- erto their fire has kept the enemy from erecting the smallest work. The eneeints on the 4th had only five hundred cannon; now it has three thousand eight hun- dred, with four hundred rounds for each. Every de- fense has its men at their posts. The Nationals drill constantly. Behind the enceinte is the third line of defense the harricades which are adapted to the genius of the Parisians. This has all been achieve~1t calmly and orderly, amidst general patriotism. The impregnability of Paris is no illusion. It can not he captured or surprisud, and there -is no danger of sedi- tion or starvation, which the Prussians have been counting on. The voting at Rome on the question of kn- nexalion to Tidy took place October 1. The numbers polled in Rome were 40,805 ayes and 46 noes. In the province of Viterbo there were 24,207 ayes and 228 noes; and in the province of Frosinone the numbers were 25,536 ayes and 271 noes. In the Leonine City the vote for an- nexation was unanimous, the nun~ber of ayes be- ing 1546. Cardinal Antonelli protested against the occupation of Rome as a violent and sacri- legions usurpation, which opinion has also been echoed by Archbishop Manning, of England. General La Marmoma entered Rome October i 1, and immediately issued a proclamation, in which he expressed the hope thdt the Pope would con- tinue to exercise his rights as head of the Chinch with perfect fi-eedom. The Duke of Aosta, the second son of the King of Italy, has been chosen candidate for the Spanish throne. his acceptance of the candi- dature has been officially announced at Madrid. CUBA. A terrible hurricane swept over the island of Cuba October 14, causing severe inundations in many parts of the country. Great damage was done to property, and it is supposed that at least two thousand people were drowned. The hurri- cane is said to have been the severest that has visited the island within a century.

Editor's Drawer Editor's Drawer 154-160

154 hARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. treat under cover of the forts. The environs of Paris were reduced to ruins before the siege, the trees and houses having been destroyed to in- crease the effectiveness of the fire from the forts and to enhance the difficulty of hostile approach. The roads, also, had been broken up and ob- structed, the tunnels and bridges being demol- ished; and this circumstance has greatly de- layed the operations of the besiegers. The re- port of violent disturbances in Paris, after its iso- lation, appears to have had little foundation. That some trouble was caused by thieves and disorderly persons is sho~vn by General Trochus proclamation against such offenders. The de- fensive force of the city consists of 250 battal- ions of National Guardsabout 375,000 men in addition to the regular troops. The entire force, according to some French accounts, con- sists of 600,000 men; but this is probably an ex- aggerated estimate. Great manufactories of arms and ammunition were set up; the roads leading to the gates were made impassable, and draw-bridges were substituted for those spanning the moat; all the gates and sally-ports were pro- vided with fresh bastions; the Seine was dammed up and the water - works turned to account; the books of the important libraries were depos- ited in the cellars; watchmen were posted in lofty towers to give the alarm in case of fire, and large reservoirs of water were erected in the vi- cinity of public buildings. For the better regu- lation of the food supplies, the Minister of Agri- culture issued an edict that, after September 28, there should be daily placed at the disposal of the citizens 500 oxen and 5000 sheep. The interview between Jules Favre and Count VonBismarck looking to peace negotiations, near the close of September, resulted in utter failure. The Count demanded the surrender of Stras- bourg, Toul, and Verdun as the condition of an armistice to allow an opportunity for th~ elec- tion of a Constituent Assembly. The Germans, he insisted, must, as a guarantee of future secu- rity, keep the departments of the Upper and Low- er Rhine, of the Moselle, with Chateau Salins, and Soissons. After the decision of the pro- visional government to refuse the offered con- ditions the following proclamation was issued: Touns, September 24. Before the investment of Paris M. Jules Favre wished to have an interview with Count Bismarck, in order to ascertain the disposition of Prussia. The following is the declaration of the enemy: Prussia desires to continue the war, so as to reduce France to the rank of a second-rate power; Prussia wants Alsace and Lorraine as far as Metz hy right of conquest, and, to consent to an armistice, she dares to ask the surrender of Strasbourg, Toni, and Mont Vakrien. The inhabitants of Paris, in their ex- asperation, would rather bury themselves in the ruins of their city than accept such terms. To such impu- dent pretensions we can only reply by fighting to the bitter end. France accepts the contest, and relies upon all her children. The mission of M. Thiers to Vienna and St. Petersburg does not seem to have led to any more satisfactory result jhaa that of M. Favre. Toul was surrendered September 23, after a bombardment of s~x hours. There were surren- dered 109 officers, 2240 privates, and 197 can- non. The surrender of Toul was followed, five days later, by that of Strasbourg. The pris- oners capturednumbered 17,000 men, including National Guards, and 451 officers. Among the spoils were 170 cannon, 1500 horses, 2,000,000 francs in the military chest, and government property in the bank estimated at 8,000,000 more. Several of the principal streets and sub-~~ urbs had been reduced to ruins. The. inhabit- ants had been driven to their cellars for safety. The Cathedral suffered much, but not irrepara- bly. The famous astronomical clock was unin- jured.The town of Soissons capitulated Octo- ber 15. Four thousand French prisoners were captured. The balloon seems to be the only means of es- cape fioxa Paris. In this way M. Gambetta, a member of the French cabinet, left Paris Oc- tober 7. His journey was a perilous one, his balloon having descend~d two or three times in close proximity to the Prussians. The following proclamation was issued on ihe 9th of October by M. Gambetta at Tours: By the order of the republican government I have left Paris to transmit to you the hopes of the Parisians and others of those who are seeking to deliver France from foreigners. Paris, invested for seventeen days, presents the spectacle of two million men forgetting their differences to withstand the invader, who expect- ed civil discord. The revolution found Paris without guns or arms of any kind. Four hundred thousand of the National Guard are now armed, and one hundred thousand Mo- hues and sixty thousand regulars are assembled. The foundries are casting cannon. The women make a million cartridges daily. Each battalion of Nationals has two mitrailleuses and field-pieces, and is prepared for sorties. The forts are manned hy the marines, and are supplied with artillery of the greatest excellence, and served by gunners the first in the world. Ilith- erto their fire has kept the enemy from erecting the smallest work. The eneeints on the 4th had only five hundred cannon; now it has three thousand eight hun- dred, with four hundred rounds for each. Every de- fense has its men at their posts. The Nationals drill constantly. Behind the enceinte is the third line of defense the harricades which are adapted to the genius of the Parisians. This has all been achieve~1t calmly and orderly, amidst general patriotism. The impregnability of Paris is no illusion. It can not he captured or surprisud, and there -is no danger of sedi- tion or starvation, which the Prussians have been counting on. The voting at Rome on the question of kn- nexalion to Tidy took place October 1. The numbers polled in Rome were 40,805 ayes and 46 noes. In the province of Viterbo there were 24,207 ayes and 228 noes; and in the province of Frosinone the numbers were 25,536 ayes and 271 noes. In the Leonine City the vote for an- nexation was unanimous, the nun~ber of ayes be- ing 1546. Cardinal Antonelli protested against the occupation of Rome as a violent and sacri- legions usurpation, which opinion has also been echoed by Archbishop Manning, of England. General La Marmoma entered Rome October i 1, and immediately issued a proclamation, in which he expressed the hope thdt the Pope would con- tinue to exercise his rights as head of the Chinch with perfect fi-eedom. The Duke of Aosta, the second son of the King of Italy, has been chosen candidate for the Spanish throne. his acceptance of the candi- dature has been officially announced at Madrid. CUBA. A terrible hurricane swept over the island of Cuba October 14, causing severe inundations in many parts of the country. Great damage was done to property, and it is supposed that at least two thousand people were drowned. The hurri- cane is said to have been the severest that has visited the island within a century. IT OLUME X~AI. is to-day inscribed on V the banner of Harpers Magazine, and under it the Drawer summons its several army corps of admirers and contributors to send on to general head-quarters every thing that can per- tain to the humorous commissariat, that the same may be equitably distributed for the pleas- ant nourishment of ot~ grand army of readers. In the leisure of the long winter evenings let the remembered good things be jotted down and committed to theFederal post-bag. Be diffusive. Be mindful of the sanitary advantage of a little honest hilarity; and remember that your quips and quiddities will be read by over half a mill- ion of the cleverest and best people in the country. FIVE- AND- FORTY years ago wonderful old Christopher North, in the pages of another maga- zineBlackwooddiscoursed thus of the season: Thank Heaven for winter! Would that it lasted all year long! Spring is pretty well in its way, with budding branches, and caroling birds, and wimpling burnies, and fleecy skies, and dew-like showers soften- ing and brightening the bosom of old mother earth. Summer is not much amiss, with umbrageons woods, glittering atmosphere, and awakening thunder-storms. Nor let me libel autumn, in hergorgeous beauty and her beautiful decays. But winter, dear cold-handed, warm- hearted winter, welcome thou to my fur-clad bosom! Thine are the short, sharp, bracing, invigorating days, that screw up muscle, fibre, and nerve, like the strings of an old Cremona discoursing excellent music; thine the long snow-silent orhail-rattling nights, with earth- ly firesides and heavenlyluminaries for home comforts or traveling imaginations, for undisturbed imprison- ment or unbounded freedom, for the affections of the heart and the flights of the soul I Ten years later, in 1835, in the same maga- zine, thus pleasantly wrote the Sketcher: Winter, a surly fashion, thankless, rude Misnomers thee a heartless niggard, limes Stern reckoner, chilled with maxims harsh and crude; To me thourt ushered in with merry chimes Thou lightest blazing hearths in ancient hall, And biddest guests, and wakest jocund laugh Thea openest wide to the poor prodigal Thy parent-arms, and kilist the fatted calf Thy keen breath kindly spares the aged thorn: So some old healthy shepherd on a rock Calls with the blast of his unpolished horn To better fare and warmer fold his flock: Thou blowest, like old Boatswain out at sea, Piping all hands to mirth and jollity. COMMEND us to our good brethren of the clergy for anecdotes of pith and delicacy. At the house of the late Dr. Archer, in London, there was a gathering of friends, and among them Dr. Har- ris, author of Mammon, and I)r. Philip, of Maberly Chapel, author of The Marthas, The Marys, etc. In the course of conversa- tion the question was mooted, which was the most amiable of the two sisters of Bethany, Mary or Martha? Dr. Archer replied: I prefer Martha for the unselfishness of her character, in being more ready to provide for the comfort of her Lord than gratify herself. Pray, rejoined Dr. Harris, addressing Dr. Philip, what is your view? Which of the two do you think would have made the best wife ? Well, really, replied the good man, Im at a loss; though I dare say, were I making the choice for myself, I should prefer Mary. Dr. Archer, turning to Dr. Harris. said, smartly, Pray, Dr. harris, w1i~ch of the two should you prefer ? The author of Mammon was only for a mo- ment disconcerted, and replied, in a style that set the table in a roar: Oh, I think I should choose Martha before dinner, and Mary after it. IN the way of dialogue we have read no- thing more perspicuous than the following, in the Scotch language, to be found in Ramsays Reminiscences of Scottish Life and Charac- ter. The conversation is between a shopmau and a customer, relating to a plaid hanging at the shop door: CUSTOMER (examiuiaj the iueteriai~. Oo ? [Wool?] SiIoPHAN. Ay, 00. [Yes, wool.] CUSTOMER. A 00 ? [All wool ?J SiborluAN. Ay, a oo. [Yes, all wool.] CusTOawu. A ae 00 ? [All same ~vool?] SHOUMAN. Ay, a ae 00. [Yes, ~ll same wool.] Could it he more clearly or concisely stated? THE pleasing facility with which an old pano- ramic show can be manufactured into an entirely new one is amusingly sketched by a military hero, rejoicing in the appellation of Colonel, who once accompanied Artemus Ward in. a steamer down the Ohio. The Colonel had traveled with a pictorial abow of the Crimean War, and Artemus asked him: Are you still in the Crimea, and does my friend Lord Raglan hold on to his .gallant steed as well as usual ? The Crimea came to an end in Canada; and Lord Raglan is Major Anderson now, was the enigmatical reply. Still the same old horse, though. Goes over the field of battle at night just the same. The professor understands his business. First we give an illumination of St. Peters at Rome. Then a little minstrelsy; not too much. Then the Grand Pictorial and Me- chanical Animated and Moving Representation of the Taking of Fort Sumter. That used to he the War in the Crimea, and the Siege of Sc- bastopol. The Crimea gotplayed out, and we turned it into Fort Sumter and Charleston lIar- bor. Ours are all cut figures. The Russians did not want much painting to turn them into Secessionists, and we had only to paint out the red-coats of the British and color them in blue to make the Federals. Sebastopol stood a little too higfi on the rocks for the city of Charleston, but we have painted the rocks down. We turned Balaclava into Castle Piuckney, and we had room enough in the Black Sea to slip in a very nice Fort Sumter. The same holes which did for us to puff the smoke through, in bombarding the Malakoff, do for us in firing at Sumter, and Sumter had to have a few holes made for it. All fits in, and costs no trouble. We put the licks in. We did it ourselves. There was a night-scene in the Crimea with a horse to move, and Lord Raglan to go out on it, to look at the dead on the field of battle. Horses are all alike in pictures. Lord Raglan makes a good Major Anderson; but, as no one was killed at Fort 156 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Sumter, all we can do is to suppose the MaSor to be surveying the ruins from James Island before going on board the steamer for New York. tJnr exhibition is particularly well suited for schaols. Moral, instructive, and cheap thats what schools want. In making my ar- rangements ahead I call upon the schools and contract with them. Five cents each in New England. No getting any more there; tea or fifteen cents any where else. THE following Song of Shoulder-Straps, composed by a high private duting the late un- pleasantness, shows how the fire of poetic genius will burst out when the great occasion demands it: I volenteered a year ago Perhaps a little better To give sesesh a fatal blow If not to clear upset her Says nancy jane my darling go Your courage I do Admire For all the while she hoped that I Would rise a little higher I took the stump and sung my songs And made my union speeches ~nd got a host of volunteers And lots of good cream peaches I had the promise of a strop To lift me up some higher But learned the man who promised it Was nothin but a liar lIe struted round and drank his beer His whisky and his brandy With shoulder-straps uppon his coat A brainless fop and dandy But when election day arived To tell the truthfull story A Novis got the Shoulder-straps As well as all the Glory I knew the world was full of rogues Before I left my mamy But never saw them half so thick As they are in the army We have had the Gold and Silver age The dark and the enlightened But with the age of shoulder-straps Old nick himself is frightened Like lords they live on uncle sam But it beats my wifes relation~ To see how nice they fool the boys In stealing surplus rations And then it would astonish boyle The gamester and the joker To learn how well they all are drilled In 1 up and Pokur I am sory that so many girls Are in for show and fancy The f alt that did at first belong To my own darling nancy But now she says that she dislikes The strops uppon the sholeder Since she has bin unto the skool And grown a littel older She sent a littel billetdaux To me one blessed friday Said she I love my darling so He looks so neat and tidy I think that he would neither be The better or the boulder With that Infernal brassy thing They weare uppon the shoulder So now good-by to shoulder-straps They rapedly are rusting And out of date the while Are getting most disgusting It is the mind that makes the man Oh hear it every nation For this will prove to each of you Your only true salvation. AirBlue tail fly. IT used to be the habit before the fashion of printing briefs was introduced, and when all the judges sat in banco to hcar appeals, etc., for the counlel opening the cause to hand up to the Chief Justice the whole package of briefs for distribu- tion among his associates. One morning Broth- er L, having spent the whole night conviv- ially at cards, came into court with his bundle of briefs, and the cause being called which he was to argue, and forgetting that the veflue was changed, laid his package on the desk before the Chief Justice, and, after a moments pause, sol- emnly and emphatically said, (at ./ WE will not undertake to say that it was in the Recorder~s Court, the other dm y, whea the crier (having just taken a quid), being called on to present the Book to a person to be sworn, quite innocently held out his tobacco-box to the witness, who thereupon took his solemn davy. Must have been one of those quid nuncs that the newspapers tell of. THE manner in which tIme old Egyptians lived and died has been recently made the subject of magazine discussion in England. Every- man of any account, in the verf olden time, hoped to become some sort or other of mummyan Egyp- tian being al~vays considered worth his saltyet it depended upon his means in what style lie would be packed for eternity. Herodotus gives three principal methods, but it is probable that these admitted of modifications according to price. One can hardly realize the satisfaction of going into an embalmers e~tnblishment, and cruising about to choose after what pattern one would be a body, as Mr. Mantalini put it. But the quest must have had its fascinations. Genteel, well-cured mummyvery soundonly 7 mimim ($100), would meet the eve on one side, and seem very,elegible; but then the price! Well, then, look at this: 22 mium ($300), and a perfect gem at the moneywarranted to last 10,000 yearsequal to first-class in duration difference in external materials only. Or, if that does not satisfy, then: In this style, finest that can be made, with latest improvements, one talent ($1250). This is the style that may be supposed to have been used by respectable mum- mifiers, the regular mmmms, extra dry. But quacks, probably, were more on time S.T. 95,0G0X. handing their advertisements with Why give more ? To persons about to perish V When you die send your body to us. A perfect cure; you last forty centuries, or your money returned, etc., etc. PERHAPS there is no class of professional gen- tlemen more given to telling anecdotes on them- selves than the clergy. Who, for example, but a minister could be so thoughtful of the public hilarity as to preserve for the general. joy of the whole company, as Macbeth saith, the fol- lowing: The long drought of thi - summer recalls some of the quaint, and, as we should think in these days, overfamihiar expressions of our fathers when praying for rain. In 1821 a genial company were traveling in a stage-coach from Albany to Niagara Falls. Rev. Jedediab Morse, Hon. Edward Everett, Colonel T. H. Perkins, and Chandler Starr, Esq., with Mrs. Starr, made up the party. The dry weather of that season called from Mr. Morse the following anecdote:. EDITORS DRAWER. 157 A Cape Cod clergyman one Sabbath had prayed most earnestly for rain. He entreated the Lord to uncork the bottles of heaven, and send down the refreshing showers. The drought had last- ed through August and a part of September. Tuesday morning the line storm began, and con- tinued with great violence till Friday, flooding the country, and sweeping off bridges in all di- rections. Saturday night it set in to rain again, and Sabbath morning it was still pouring down. This time the prayer was as follows: 0 Lord, we recently took occasion to entreat Thee to un- cork the bottles of heaven, and send down the refreshing showers, but we did not mean that the corks should be thrown away ! Mr. Starr fol- lowed with a story of Parson llo~ve,of Milton, Connecticut. On a similar occasion, if not dur- ing the same drought, he petitioned for relief in these words: 0 Lord, we want rain very much. The rye is suffering prodigiously. Of corn we shall not have half a crop. As for the potatoes, it is all up ~vith them; and theres that grass of Deacon Comstocks, it is as red as a foxs tail. THERE were very many people, in the late po- litical campaign in this State, ~vho placed them- selves on the independent ground concisely de- scribed in the following paragraph: During the canvass in Pennsylvania for county and borough officers, as well as for members of Congress, a certain Democrat was asked by a friend how he stood on the free-school ques- tion. Not being well posted, and fearing some catch, he replied: Well, I stand a nuisance in this chompaigne. There were a good many neutrals of the same sort, on both sides, in our last champaigne. WE estimate that an accurate description of what really good pork is may be found in the fol- lowing notice, the original of which is before us: PORKI hay Still to Spare stew pounds of Old pork, some Salted and some Smoked; E h as peed as Er greased any mans Cheek or Chin! J B. 5ss~sv3 N. Y., Notemter 20th, 1869. AN Ohio correspondent who recently had oc- casion to look over the old records of one of the counties of that State, came across the following legal document, which shows what can be done under a writ of replecin: Cor T OF ConsloN PLEAS, county, 1837. JouR WILKINS vs. WM. BARNARD ~ I Replevin, Damages $1000. and RvnEccx WILKINS.) The Clerk of the above Court will issue a writ of Heplevin for the following child, goods, and chattels, to wit: one male child shout fourteen months old, named James Hamilton Wilkins, son of said plaint- iff, and indorse, Suit brought for wrongfully de- taining said child, or property, to the plaintiffs dam agli ~lO0O, M J , Atty for P1.ff The above-named John Wilkins makes oath and says tbat he has good right to the possession of the child, goods, and chattels described above, and that they are wrongfully detained by said defendants; and that said child, goods, and chattels ware not taken in execution in any judgment against the said plaintiff, nor by vir- tue of any writ of replevin or any other mesna or final process whatever issued against him. JOaN Wn~suNs. Swofn to, etc., etc. - The curiosity of our correspondent being ex- cited, he ascertained that the plaintiff and his wife had had a breeze ; she thereupon sloped to her father, taking the child; that the plaint- iff, thinking his paternal rights violated, applied to a lawyer to get redress; whereupon suit in replevin was instituted. The sheriff took the child without difficulty; when it occurred to him that the next step was to have an appraisement of the property. This appearing to be somewhat difficult, he persuaded all the parties to come with him to town, bringing the property with him, where the matter was amicably settled, as per agreement on file. We note the l)recedent for the guidance of the bar of New York. IN the way of poetical paraphrase could any thing be more beautiful than the following, on this sentence in Deuteronomy, xxxiv. 5: So Moses the servant of the Lord died there in the land of Moab, according to the word of the Lord; the literal rendering of .the last words being, ~ by the mouth of the Lord. It is thus rendered by an old English poet: Softly his fainting head he lay Upon his Makers breast; His Maker kissed his soul away, And laid his flesh to rest. Just at this particular season, when innocent festivity abounds, or ought to abound, in every household, the Drawer writes down for the gen- eral edification the following, which, many years ago, was written on the wall of Ca old way-side inn not ten thousand miles from Connecticut: Heros to Pands pen Dasoci! al Hon 3Rinbar M, Les, Smirt: Ha! (N. B. F.) IJule, Tfri; end, shi Pre I, Gube, J, U, Stand~ K. i~ndan Devils!!! Peako, Pa (one). Which may be sugared off as follows: here stop and spend a social hour In harmless mirth and fan; Let friendship reign, be just and kind, And 5ivil speak of none. As a matter of duty, nnd at the same time with a feeling of pleasure,, we welcome to the Drawer a merchant of l3oston, who, visil~ing this city, took occasion to make inquiry in regard to the standing of a person who had applied to him for credit, and he was assured that the party was doing a good business, was a member of the Coin- mon Council, etc. But, said the persevering Bostonian, is he honest ? Honest! exclaimed the interrogated. Why, his honesty has been proved better than that of any man in New York, for he has been twice tried for stealing, and escaped both times! A CORRESPONDENT at Christians, Pennsyl- vania, sends us the following of an aged ile- gress, very pious, an inveterate smoker, who dropped in to pay a passing visit to a neigh- bor, who was equally well known as a temper- ance man and a hater of tobacco. On sitting down the old aunty pulled from her pocket a long pipe and commenced smoking, to the infinite dis- gust of her host. The man maintained his com- posure several minutes; but the fumes became too powerful for him, and, rising, he said: Aunt Chloe, do you think you are a Chris- tian ? 158 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Yes, brudder; I specks I is. Do you believe in the Bible ? Yes, brudder. Do you know there is a passage there which says that nothing unclean shall inherit the king- dom of heaven? Yes, I has heard of it. Do you believe it ? Yes. Well, Chloe, you can not enter into the king- dom of heaven, because there is nothing so un- clean as the breath of a smoker. What do you saytothat? Why, ~vhen I go to heaven, I specks to leave my brefY behind me I FROM over sea we have two small jokes anent the river which flows into the harbor of Liver- pool: A wag, crossing to Woodside Ferry, and observing the muddiness of the water, remarked that Shakspeare was quite correct in stating that the quality of Mersey is not strained.. A Liv- erpool pilot, adrift in the Irish Sea during a dense fog, is said to have fervently uttered two lines from Popes well-known hymn: That Mersey I fo others showed, That Mersey show to me. A CORRESPONDENT at Pumphreys Landing, Washington Territory, sends us the follo~ving ex- tract from a report of the proceedings of the Leg- islature of Oregon, in reference to the new ele- meat that is coming among us: A BILL TO DISCOURAGE CASTE. Be it enacted by the Legtstattve Assembly of the State of Oregon: SEcTIoN 1. That it shall not be lawful for any male inhabitant of this State over the a~e of fifteen years to wear his hair in a queue plaited of greater length than six inches, or shave a portion of the scalp, without first obtaining a license therefor, to be issued by the clerks of the several counties and delivered to the sheriff of the same, signed with his name and seal of office. Such licenses shall be filedand delivered to every person ap- plying therefor upon the payment of ten dollars ($10) gold coin, which license shall begood for thirty days from the date thereof, and be renewed by an indorse- mont on the hack thereof made by the sheriff, and the payment of an additional ten dollars for each succeed- ing inon.th such person may desire a license. How is that for a flank movement on John Chinaman ? THE f6llowing is contributed by a clerical friend in Boston. He has never seen it in print. It was told to him nearly fifty years ago by a gentleman who spoke of it as having occurred within his own knowledge: Apropos of Sedan. When sedan chairs were in common use, about half a century n~o, a pious old Methodist lady, residing in Dublin, engaged a sturdy chairman and his assistant to bear her to her favorite chapel. The evening being stormy, the chair was deposited in the vestibule, and the chairmen took seats just inside the door of the chapel to await the close of the services. The preacher took for his text, Jeremiah, iv. 22: For my people is foolish, they have not known me; they are sottish children, and they have none understanding: they are ~vise to do evil; but to do good they have no knowledge.0 Be- ing from the north of Ireland, there was a slight touch of Done in his speech, and he pronounced the first clause of the text thus: For moi peo- ple is foolish. On returning home the old lady called the chairman into the hall, and while hunting up the exact change to pay him for his services, asked him ho~v he liked the sermon. Sorra a bit did I like it, maam, replied Pat. Why so? asked the lady. I thought it an excellent discourse. Faix, thin, maam, if it was, what else did he do but blaggaard me native town all through it? Didnt he till ivery body that the Fermo?, people was foolish and sottish, and hadnt the laste taste of good in em? And sure, isnt Fermoy as da- cent a little town as there is in Ireland, and 1~as a bank in it? THE Woman Question seems to have afresh illustration in the following: I)uring the session last summer of the Equal Rights Convention, in a neighboring city, a strong-niinded sister entered a crowded streetrailroad car. An old gent rose to give her a seat,. but asked, Be you one of those womens righters ? I be. You believe a woman should have all the rights of a man Yes, I do. Then stand up, and enjoy them like a man. The excellent female maintained her perpen- dicular posture. THERE iS some drollery always going on around the markets. The following is the first instance, in the annals of the Drawer, where a lobster has been successfully introduced: A man who was fond of good lobster, was looking wistfully at a basket of them, with his dog by his side, while another by-stander was sticking the end of his cane inki one of the disengaged claws of a big fellow at the top. How he does hold on ! said the man with the cane. Yes, responded the man with the dog; but its because he dents the cane, and his claws won t stick on the wood. But be couldnt hold on to a critter in that way. When a lobster feels any thing givin he stops pinchin. Guess not, said the owner of the basket. You put your dogs tail in that era claw, and youll see ~vhether hell hold on or not. No sooner said than done. The man lifted up his dog, dropped his tail into the open claw, which closed instanter, and the dog ran off, howl- ing, at the top of his speed. Hello! exclaimed the owner; whistle back your dog. Blast him! hes ruhuing off with the lobster Whistle back your lobster! rejoined, the other. That dog aint comm back; that dogs in pain; I cant git him to come near me when hes in pain. Poor dog! he had to go home! IN The Genial Showman, published by the Harpers, wherein Mr. E. P. Hingaton very amus- ingly sketches the various odd characters be en- countered during his management of Arte- inns Ward, he mentions a party whom he met in a stage between Marysville and Sacra- mento, who, from certain remarks which he made, seemed to have a prejudice against law- yers. Lawyers are mean cusses! . he exclaimed, EDITORS DRAWER. 159 with bitterness. Id drown the whole bum of them in the Yuba, if I had my way. Do you know what happened to them in Georgia, whar I come from? Well, some one introduced a hill into the Legislature to tax all jackasses ten dol- lars a year. One of our legislators moved an amendment. He wishedlawyers and doctors to be put in the same act. Our Legislature was in high spirits that day, and wanted a little mischief. So when the amendment was put, they carried it,. and passed the bill. Theyve tried to rub it out since, but they cant do it. Weve got it on our statute books. Just as sure as Im driving you down to the Yuba, the act stands good in old Georgiaall jackasses, doctors, and lawyers have to pay up ten dollars a year. Its hefty on the lawyers, but its so / IT used to be thought dangerous for a subject . to witness the undress moments of a king; and when dignitaries do relax it is desirable that their companions should be discreet. There is an English nobleman of jovial turn, Lord Fits- hardinge, who lately made a speech at au agri- cultural dinner, and in the course of it became quite racy. The Bishop of Gloucester and Bristol, said his lordship, is fond of billiards. [Laughter.] He was staying with me last autumn, and he was playing a game of billiards on Saturday night. lie had the best of the game. [Laughter.] I think it was 47 to 45; and he was 47 when the clock struck twelve. He said to me, Could you not put the billiard-room clock back five min- utes? [Loud laughter.] I said I would put it back ten minutes if he liked, and give him a glass of gin-and-water afterward. [Roars of laughter.] Bless us! what a putting in of the foot was there 1 It ought in justice to be added that, al- though the bishop is also a good horseman and great rower, he is at the same time known to be one of the most learned and hard-working prel- ates, and best biblical critics, in England, being in manliness a true type of the mascular Chris- tian. FaoM a letter written in mid-ocean comes the following reminiscence of Lyman Beecher: In the early part of the present century, when Dr. Beecher wrote and preached his famed discourse on Dueling, at the time the heart of the coun- try was stirred with the death of hamilton by the bullet of Burr, one of the learned divines of New York said to another: Who is this Lyman Beecher .that can write and preach after this fashion? I never heard of him before. He has been down at East Hampton, on Long Island, for eight years, steeping in Edwards, was the reply. AMoNG the many resources for moral and physical culture, none is more deservedly popu- lar than our Young Mens Christian Associations. In this city and in Washington there are at- tached to these institutions gymnasiums fur- nished with every appliance for developing phys- ical power; and at hours when young men are usually at leisure they may be seen making use of the bars, ropes, ladders, dumb - bells, etc. Not long since there worked in Washington a printer named North. who would occasfonally drink too much. One evening, after having struggled with too many drinks, a friend ad- vised him to go over to the prayer-meeting in the Y. M. C. A. building, and ask some of the members to pray for him. The suggestion struck him favorably, and he proceeded to act upon it, but accidentally wandered into the gymnasium, instead of the prayer-meeting. Steadying him- ~elf, and looking around, he said, They told me to come over here to a prayer-meeting, but Ive got into a circus 1 As a war anecdote how is this? During the ~ troubles a young Confederate miss was passing through one of the hospitals, when it was remarked that a prisoner, a lieutenant, had died that morning. Oh, ~vhere is he? Let me see hini! Let me kiss him for his mother exclaimed the maiden. The attendant led her into an adjoining ward, when, discovering Lieutenant H , of the Fifth Kansas, lying fast asleep on his hospital couch, and thinking to have a little fun, he pointed him out to the girl. She sprang forward, and bend- ing over him, said: Oh, you dear lieutenant, let me kiss you for your mother I What wa.s her surprise when the awakened corpse~ ardently clasped her in his arms, re- turned the salute, and exclaimed: Never mind the old lady, miss; go it on your own account. I havent the slightest ob- jection. QuITE useless to attempt to get the weather- gauge of a Second-Advent brother. In Michi- gan, for instance, dwells a worthy minister of that persuasion, who is the fortunate possessor of eighty acres of land. While conversing IC- cently concerning the nearness of the Final l)ay, and the necessity of forgetting the temporal in the infinite, a good Presbyterian. brother sug- gested, since the end was so near, that B should give him forty acres of his land, for which not only should his earnest thanks be given, but the Lord would impute his generous deed unto him for righteousness. Besides, added be, what is the use of declining, when the change would only benefit me a little while ? No, Sir, replied the good man of the Sec- ond Adv. no, Sir! the Lord has said to me, occepy till I come, end I iatead to do it ! lies doing it yet. No man has greater popularity in the lecture- room than Gough, and no one has more faith- fully obeyed the famous maxim, The three great rules ever to be observed in oratofy are, 1st, Action! 2d, Action! I 3d, Action! I I. He is always acting and in action. Of himself he writes: I have been criticised severely for the un- gracefulness and violence of my gestures. I do not wish to deprecate criticism. I know I am ungraceful and awkward. I once heard a boy say to his companion, as they came out from the lecture-room where I had been speaking, Jimmy, did you see him go it with his feet? I never studied the graces of action or ges- ture; probably I sho4lld be more graceful if I 160 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. had. We often acquire unfortunate habits that are hard to break. A German in Philadelphia told his employer that he was going to hear dat Mr. Gough, vat dey say dalks mit his goat dails. How I acquired the habit I do not know, but I condemn the motion as much as any one can, and would be grateful to any person who would strike me on my knuckles with a stick whenever I dalk mit my goat dails. I think I could not make a speech with my hands tied. I have never tried it. But I will not makeexcuses for my gestures. I am often amused by the committee, after erecting a platform perhaps twenty feet by fif- teen, asking me if I should have room enough, or whether the president would be in my way if he remained in the chair. I find people do not generally prefer to sit on the stand while I am speaking; perhaps desiring to see him go it with his feet, or fearful of being kicked off; and it is dangerous to get too close to me when I am going it. Dr. Beman once, when I was speaking in his church, stepped very softly behind me to arrange a refractory gas-burner, just as I threw back my fist, and he received a stinger in his face. When I felt his hard teeth and soft lips against my knuckles, as my hand came in contact with them so violently, a chill ran through me; but when I apologized afterward, the good doctor said, with a smile, Remember, Sir, you are the first man that ever struck me with impunity. I have found blood on my hand more, than once, and occasionally a black bruise, and I cer- tainly could not tell how it was done, but guessed that, while I was going it, I must have struck my hand somewhere. SPEAKING of geese, and December being the month in which they are supposed to be at their best, the following verse, copied from a number of the Universal Magazine, published one hun- dred and one years ago (December, 1769), shows the relative cost of that admirable bird then and Thursday night some villains broke into the farm- yard of Mr. Page, Hendon, near Gosport, and stole thereout 6 geese, and left a letter tied round the gan- ders neck, wherein was enclosed 6d., and the follow- ing lines: Pray, Mr. Page, dont be in a rage; If you are we should not wonder; We have bought 6 geese at a penny a piece, And left the money with the gander. That is the equitable way in which the surrep- titious appropriation of poultry was adjusted in the eighteenth century. A MI55IONAET of the American Sunday-School Union in South Carolina reports: Not long since, in the county of Buncombe, the freedmen organized a Sunday-school, and elected for superintendent an old man who does not know a letter in the alphabet. According to his peculiar notions of government he carried a long rod into the school, and took his position in the centre to see that all things be done de- cently and in order. A boy soon came undem his notice by loud spelling, and thinking it about time to show his authority, he attracted the at- tention of the whole school by calling out, Dat letter is not spelt right, Sab!. This brought the youngster fom~vard, book in hand,saying, You is a good scholar; you show me how. This was more than the old man bargained for, and would have silenced some superintendents; but he turned the tables on the chap by replying, Oh, you go away from here! 1 knows no- thin about your spellin, Capt I knows when its done rght. THEY make this sort of thing in Richmond, Indiana: Twas on a calm, midsummer morn, The birds were singing in the trees, The dew-drops glittered on the corn That tremhled in the passing breeze. Then like an orb of liquid lire The sun rose oer the eastern hill; His rays illumed Saint Andrews spire, Old Shafers barn, and Larshs mill. The perfumed zephyrs fanned my hair, While from the meadow far away, Borne by the soft and balmy air, Came odors of the new-mown hay. Bni~ht insects there in myriads rose, Displaying brilliant rainbow dyes; One fellow nipped me on the nose Severeal got into my eyes. And basking in the morning light, Gay flowers were blooming all around; Twas there I saw a funny sight, And there 1 heard a novel sound. I heard a jay-bird on a bough Say with a sneering, jeering laugh: The old ring-streaked, speckled cow Has got a spotted calf. DoEsTacKs makes his first contribution to the Drawer as follows: Coming down from a town that is situated a small few of distanCe? up the Harlem Railroad the other day, I was at first annoyed, then amused, by the writhing antics of a green-looking chap who occupied the seat just in front of me. He observed closely every person that came in, scru- tinized their dress, manners, style, and conver- sation, and seemed to solve all social problems to his satisfaction, until at last he began to take a strange and peculiar interest in those posts that are set up at the approach of every station. These are painted white, and bear, some of them the letter XV, others R, that the en- gineer may whistle or ring, as the case may be, for the warning of the station-master. My verdant genius looked with ever-increas- ing curiosity at these mysterious posts. Town after town was palsed, station after station slipped by; at every one he beheld the posts with the cabalistic inscriptions; he could make nothing of them. At last curiosity overcame his bashfulness, and he turned to me and asked for an explanation of the puzzling hieroglyphics. I informed him, with all my customary polite- ness, that the letters were directions to the driver of the engine: when he reached the XV post he was to whistle, while, as he pass- ed the R, he was to ring. The anxious inquirer turned away with a muttered word of thanks, but presently he turn- ed to me and said: Stranger, I spose youre right; but blamed if I can understand it. I knew that W-r-i-n-g spells Ring, but how you can spell Whistle with an R beats all my district schooling. Fact.

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Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 42, Issue 248 International monthly magazine Harper's monthly magazine Harper & Bros. New York January 1871 0042 248
Old Christmas Carol 161-162

HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.. No. CCXLVIII.JANUARY, 1871.VOL. XLII. - 4 01L3D Q~r~T*I~ 3t~O3L ~ ~uao born on Qlbrfotmao%baa?; & 1~reatbe tJe bo1l~, t~tne tfle ba~j: fljrtotuo natue; bob te! ~De 3Sabe, tbe son, tI;e jL?oI~ One Of jJ~ara?. ~e to born to oct no free; ~e to born our lLorb to be, ~De sob, tbe Jlorb, b~ alt aboreb J7oreber. 7 R ~ie;t tJe brt~bt reb berrteo ~Iotu ~ tobere In ~oobl~ obo~o: Qtflrtotuo natuo bobte! ~be 33abe, tbe ~on, tbe jh~ot~ One Of ~ \\ Qrbrtottan men rejofte nub otn~ ~fo tbe bfrtb%ba~ of a ~ ~v 4I*~arfa ITirtitne! ~I4e sob, tbe iiorb, ba~ alt aboreb ~oreber. c~ I; N(~bt of oabneoo, morn of ~labneoo, ~bermore nub eberinore, ~ber, eber! ~fter mann troubleo oore, 4~t~oru of glabneoo, ~beriuore nub eberniore. ~tbntgbt otartelA! panoeb nub ober, iOrab~titll to tbto Doip morn, 1Jer~2 earip, bern earip, Qrbrfot bino born: ~brtotuo natno bobte! ~be 3iabe, tIn son, tbe j~ol~ One Of ~ar~ ~fug out bi(tb bitos; ~to name to tbfo T~manuel! 11 ~o b~ao foretoib tn bapo of olb 3Sp Qllabrfel. ~: j*Iar(a 1J(rgtne! ~be Q~ob, tbe Jiorb, b~ all aboreb JYoreber. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year iSTO, by Harper and Brothers, in the Office of the Libra- rian of Congress, at Washuutgton. Von. XLILNo. 248.i 1 A -p - ,4-~ ~ N. SX ~8, 162 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. FOLK-LIFE IN SWEDEN. THE kingdom of Sweden, exclusive of Lap- land, has a population about equal to that of the State of New York, and an area nearly four times greater. The distribution of popu- lation is quite different. In New York, a third of the population is concentrated in the two great contiguous cities of New York and Brook- lyn, and fully an eighth in cities and towns of from 10,000 to 125,000 inhabitants. Nearly half the population are, therefore, residents of towns. The population of Sweden is almost entirely rural. By the census of 1865, out of a population of 4,100,000, there were 3,500,000 living in the country, 600,000 in towns. Stock- holm, the capital, has 125,000 inhabitants about equal to Buffalo Next comes Gottenburg, with 42,000, about equal to Troy. There are four towns having from 10,000 to 20,000, and five having from 8000 to 10,000 inhabitants. The whole number of people residing in towns of 8000 and upward is less than 400,000. Of the entire population fully four-fifths are agricultural. Foreign writers usually denom- inate this class as peasants; but this word conveys an erroneous idea of their condition. Their designation in Swedish, Bonde (plural Bonder), is derived from the verb bo, to re- side, and means simply dwellers. Some- times the Bonde is the owner of the farm which he cultivates; oftener he holds it on lease from the crown or from other proprietors. These leases are for such long periods, and upon such easy terms, that thcy are practically equivalent to a freehold. Others are cotters who rent a little plot of ground, and keep a cow or two, a few pigs, sheep, and goats, and perhaps a horse. They work during harvest for their richer neigh- hors, and their wages, added to the products of their little plots of ground, maintain them in tolerable comfort. Mere day-laborers are al- most entirely unknown in the rural districts. Mechanics and artisans are rare except in the towns. Every Bonde can perform the work required for building and furnishing his house, and carrying on his farm, even to shoeing his horse. There are, however, itinerant tailors and shoemakers, who go about from farm to farm, and rarely have settled homes of their own. Sometimes the dwellings of the Bonder stand alone; but quite as often a few are grouped together into little hamlets. The dwellings of the hotter class are built much alike. Some- times the barns and cattle-houses are detached; oftener they form three sides of a quadrangle, the dwelling-house constituting the fourth side, They are universally built of squared logs, the ends notched into each other, the interstices being filled in with moss. The roofs are usu- ally of boards, covered over with layers of birch bark or turf. Roofs of tiles or thatch are rare. Glass windows of good size are universal. The TaE FoaEsT ati~.

A. H. Guernsey Guernsey, A. H. Folk-life in Sweden 162-174

162 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. FOLK-LIFE IN SWEDEN. THE kingdom of Sweden, exclusive of Lap- land, has a population about equal to that of the State of New York, and an area nearly four times greater. The distribution of popu- lation is quite different. In New York, a third of the population is concentrated in the two great contiguous cities of New York and Brook- lyn, and fully an eighth in cities and towns of from 10,000 to 125,000 inhabitants. Nearly half the population are, therefore, residents of towns. The population of Sweden is almost entirely rural. By the census of 1865, out of a population of 4,100,000, there were 3,500,000 living in the country, 600,000 in towns. Stock- holm, the capital, has 125,000 inhabitants about equal to Buffalo Next comes Gottenburg, with 42,000, about equal to Troy. There are four towns having from 10,000 to 20,000, and five having from 8000 to 10,000 inhabitants. The whole number of people residing in towns of 8000 and upward is less than 400,000. Of the entire population fully four-fifths are agricultural. Foreign writers usually denom- inate this class as peasants; but this word conveys an erroneous idea of their condition. Their designation in Swedish, Bonde (plural Bonder), is derived from the verb bo, to re- side, and means simply dwellers. Some- times the Bonde is the owner of the farm which he cultivates; oftener he holds it on lease from the crown or from other proprietors. These leases are for such long periods, and upon such easy terms, that thcy are practically equivalent to a freehold. Others are cotters who rent a little plot of ground, and keep a cow or two, a few pigs, sheep, and goats, and perhaps a horse. They work during harvest for their richer neigh- hors, and their wages, added to the products of their little plots of ground, maintain them in tolerable comfort. Mere day-laborers are al- most entirely unknown in the rural districts. Mechanics and artisans are rare except in the towns. Every Bonde can perform the work required for building and furnishing his house, and carrying on his farm, even to shoeing his horse. There are, however, itinerant tailors and shoemakers, who go about from farm to farm, and rarely have settled homes of their own. Sometimes the dwellings of the Bonder stand alone; but quite as often a few are grouped together into little hamlets. The dwellings of the hotter class are built much alike. Some- times the barns and cattle-houses are detached; oftener they form three sides of a quadrangle, the dwelling-house constituting the fourth side, They are universally built of squared logs, the ends notched into each other, the interstices being filled in with moss. The roofs are usu- ally of boards, covered over with layers of birch bark or turf. Roofs of tiles or thatch are rare. Glass windows of good size are universal. The TaE FoaEsT ati~. FOLK-LIFE IN SWEDEN. 163 dwelling-house consists mainly of one large room, used by the whole family for sitting, working, eating, and sleeping. Upon one side is a huge fire-place, and around the walls are wooden settees, which, on opening, form beds for the family. In a recess, usually provided with curtains, is the bed of the master and mis- tress of the family. The floor is strewn with twigs of spruce, pine, or juniper. It often happens that the beds are insufficient for the accommodation of the family and guests or chance travelers; in that case bundles of straw are laid on the floor, upon which the occupants sleep, dressed in their ordinary clothing. On Christmas night all the family must sleep in one room; the children upon the straw-covered floor, to commemorate the fact that the child Jesus made his advent into the world upon a bed of straw. This bed on the floor is hence denominated Sylcson-sdng or brother-and-sis- ter-bed. In the chimney is a slide which is closed when the wood has been burned to coals so that no smoke is produced; combustion then goes on slowly, and all the heat of the fire is thrown into the room. Opening into the main apartment is a smaller one, nominally a spare bedchatnber; but it is seldom used for that purpose, and serves mainly as a wardrobe for the Sunday finery ofthe family. Another small room is used as a kitchen. The food of the people is abundant and nu- tritive, though, according to our ideas, rather coarse. The staple dish is a brose of rye or oat meal and milk. The meal is also made into thin loaves, with a hole in the middle. These, strung upon horizontal poles, are sus- pended from the rafters. Potatoes are the usual vegetable. Milk, butter, and cheese are abundant. Meat is much more common than is usual among the peasantry of other Euro- pean countries; but it is usually salted ; the common people, indeed, have an aversion to fresh meat of any kind. Several circumstances combine to produce the peculiar form of the social life of the Swed- ish Bonder. Until within a few years they constituted one of the, four estates of the realm: Nobles, Clergy, Burghers, and Bonder. The representatives of the Bonder used to sit in Parliament and appear at royal entertain- ments dressed in the homespun garments of their order. Now, however, there is no po- litical distinction between the orders. There are about 3000 noble families, who own about an eighth of the land of the kingdom; but their nobility of its elf gives them no special prerogatives, although, as a matter of fact, most of the civil and military offices are filled by them. The burghers have now only this ad- vantage over the Bonder, that 10,000 inhabit- ants of a town are entitled to a representative inthe Lower House of Parliament, while 40,000 are required in the country. The clergy have no separate political representation. The Par- liament consists of two Houses. The members of the Upper House, 119 in number, are chosen by the provincial assemblies and municipal cor- porations. They must be thirty-five veams of age, have landed property of the value of $22,500, or an income of $1100; they are elected for nine years, atid receive no pay. Practically the members of the Upper House must mainly belong to the nobility. The Lower House consists of 185 members, chosen for three years. Every Swede of the age of twenty-one, having real estate of the value of $280 or an income of $225, is eligihle. The delegates receive their traveling expenses and sazapine ACCOMMODATiONS. 164 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. a salary of $335 for each session of four months. The cultivators of the soil have to pay seven- ninths of the taxes, keep the roads in repair, and maintain the Indelta or national militia, numbering 35,000 men. Besides his pay each soldier has a cottage and a piece of ground. In time of peace the Indelta are called out for practice only one month during the year. Education is compnlsory upon all classes. Every child must attend school until he has acquired a specified proficiency; the minimnm is reading, writing, elements of arithmetic, thb catechism, Bible history, and singing. In sparsely settled districts the children often have to walk long distances to school. The statistical reports show that 20,000 have to go three or four miles, and 70,000 two miles. They set out in the morning, carrying their dinners with them, and return in the evening. It is almost impossible to meet with a Swede of either sex who is not able to read and write, or to find a cottage, even ifi the depths ofthe forest, without a Bible and a few hooks, mainly of a religious character. The state religion is Lutheran in doctrine and Episcopalian in form. According to the census of 1860 there wereheads of families, we infer, only being enumeratedl000 Jews, 900 Roman Catholics, and 500 Mormons; all the others were entered as Protestants. By the strict letter of the law no one who has not partaken of the communiOn can marry or hold office under the crown. The revenue of the clergy is derived partly from the crown, hut principally from tithes and voluntary contribu- tions, usually paid in kind. The Archbishop of Upsala has an income of $6000 a year; three bishops have $5000 each, the remaining eight bishops from $2500 to $3000. There are about 150 deans who average $1500; and 1200 rectors who have, including the products of their glebe lands; frbm $500 to $1200. The incomes of the remaining clergy, curates and the like, about 3000 in number, will not ex- ceed $200 or $300 a year. As a class the Swedish clergy compare favorably in attain- ments and character with those of any other country. They belong almost entirely to the Bonde class, it being very seldom that one of a noble or burgher family enters upon holy orders. The Swedish rural population is practically divided into small communities, having little intercourse with each other. Few of the Bonder have ever visited a town of 10,000 inhabitants, or gone a score of miles from their homes. Thus it has come to pass that their habits, manners, and customs have remained un- changed from generation to generation. Not a few of their customs and superstitions date back to a period before the introduction of Christianity. These were often so deeply root- ed in the popular mind that the early mission- aries found it impossible to eradicate them, and they not unfrequently adopted the wise course of giving a Christian turn to old heathen oh- servances. This is clearly seen in the manner of celebrating Christmas, or, asit is called in S~veden, Jal.* Jul is the great Swedish festival, but it was a festival among the Scandinavians long before the birth of our Saviour. The origin of the name Jul is lost in the night of ages. One ex- planation, which appears the most plausible of all, is that it is shnply a corruption of the word Hjel, wheel, and means the annual circuit performed by the sun; the days shortening dur- ing one half and lengthening during the other; the point where the longest night and the shortest day met being called Jul-nat, wheel- meeting. They commenced their year with the longest night, fcr, according to them, night, darkness, and cold, preceded daylight and warmth. This longest night comes on the 21st of December. Odin, who lived about a hundred years before Christ, ordered that at this season a great sacrificial feast should be observed, lasting during the period when the lengthening of the days was hardly perceptible. This festival, called Jul-blot, continued, accord- ing to some, until the 13th of January, accord- ing to others, until the close of the month. As there was only four days difference between Jul-mat and Christmas, when Christianity sup- planted paganism, there ~ias little difficulty in making the change of time, and the heathen Jul, retaining its own name and some of its old observances, was transformed into Christ- mas. Preparations for the coming Jul are made long beforehand. While the grain is unthreshed the choicest sheaves are selected from which to brew the Jul-ale and bake the Jul-bread. On Jul-afton, the day before Christmas, the cattle must be let out from the cow-house and driven to water at an earlier hour than common, and returned before noon; otherwise the next har- vest will be late. The Swedish peasantry have the same antipathy to forests which characterizes our pioneers; all trees are carefully cut down around their dwellings. But at Jul young pines, stripped of their bark and lower branches, are set out before the house; and as the sun goes down a sheaf of unthreshed grain is hoist- ed on a pole from the house-top for the benefit of the small birds, for all creatures must have reason to rejoice on the day when Christ came into the world. Meanwhile, within doors the women have been busy scouring and brighten- ing the room and household utensils. The best garments of the family are got out and hung upon the walls, for they think that the Jul-fire shining upon them will preserve them from moths. The servants then proceed to the cat- tle-house. A mess has been prepared, com- posed of the same materials as the dinner of the family; a portion of this and a bupdle of the choicest forage are given to each cow, with the words, This is Jul-afton, my little one. * Prononneed Yule. The Swedish j has always the sound of our consonantal y. FOLK-LIFE IN SWEDEN. 105 The horses, in addition to their forage, have a drink of ale, in order that they may be mettle- some when going to matins the next morning. The poultry are regaled with a dish of Jul-grdt, a kind of pudding of flour or rice and milk. The very watch-dog is unchained this night, for it would he a pity that the poor fellow should be tied up and miserable, while every other creat- ure is free and happy. From the position of the cattle auguries are drawn as to the coming harvest. If they are lying down, the crops will be abundant; if they are standing, they will be scanty. If possible, a few hairs from a newly- killed hear are put into each crib; this, it is supposed, will act as a preventive against the attacks of these ferocious animals during the ensuing year. XVhen night has fallen the great room is light- ed up with pitch-pine torches and candles. Supper comes off at ten or eleven oclock. A pigs heador, at least, some part of a swine and a large loaf of bread, called Jul-boar, is always placed on the table. This is an un- doubted relic of heathen times; for the boar was especially dedicated to the~ god Frey, the giver of light and sunshine, because it xvas said that this animal, by turning up the soil with his tusks, taught man to plow. All the family coin and silver cups and spoons are placed on the table, for it is held that the light of t~e Jul- fire will cause them to be lucky and increase. The supper concludes with a psalm, in which all the company join. A tankard of ale is left on the table for the delectation of celestial vis- itants;. this is called Anqia-di, angels- ale. A plate of stirabout, a little tobacco, and some articles of diminutive clothing are left here and there for the Tomte Gut be, or little old man of the house, a sort of friendly elf; upon whose good-will much depends. He is supposed to have the form of a little old man not larger than a child. The few who profess to have seen him describe him as clothed in gray home- spun, with a red night-cap and clumsy shoes. His special office is to watch around the house and cattle-sheds, to see that every thing is kept clean and tidy, and that the animals are well cared for. So long as he remains with the family all goes well; hut if he is displeased, and betakes himself elsewhere, misfortune is sure to follow. The superstitions connected with Jul-night are innumerable. No one must be absent from his home, for on that night the Trolls, or de- mons and witches, are roaming about. The dead also rise from their graves, and, after vis- iting their former homes, repair to the church and celebrate divine service. The fire on the hearth must not be allowed to go out, or the candles to be extinguished, during the night. The remains of the Jul-candles are carefully preserved, since they possess great medicinal virtues, being especially efficacious for the cure of chapped hands, frosted feet, chapped lips, and sore teats of cows. The shoes of all the fam- ily must be placed together, in order to insure unanimity among the wearers. If any one places his shoes upright against the wall, and finds them fallen to the floor in the morning, he will die within the year. If an unmarried man puts his shirt in the barn, its position in tl~e morning will indicate what will befall him in the course of the year. If the arms are folded across the breast, he will die; if one arm is stretched out, he will be married. Various other mishaps are prefigured by other changes which may occur in the position of different parts of the garment. But if it remains as he left it, nothing particular will happen to him. There is one notable exception to the rule THE JUL-PINES. 166 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. that a man must remain indoors upon~,Jul-eve. Sometimes a person, in quest of supernatural knowledge, makes what is called an Ars gang, or yearly ronnd, on that night. Prepara- tions must be made for this mystical journey. Some, secrete themselves, fasting for a day or two beforehand, in a dark cellar, or some other place of concealment, where they can neither hear nor see any living creature. He must di- vnlge his intention to no one; mnst speak to no one; must not laugh or be aifrighted at any thing which he sees or hears. Usually the pil- grim goes alone; but now and then two or three accidentally encounter, but they must not speak to each other. It is related by the Dean of Gottenburg that two men were thus making the round. There is a popular belief that at a cer- tain instant the water of every spring is for a moment turned to wine. One of the pilgrims, happening at this moment to drink front a spring, incautiously exclaimed to his compan- ion, Now the water is win~ whereupon a voice was heard from the depth, And your eyes now are mine; and the unfortunate ma~n became blind from that instant. The pilgrim- age begins a little before midnight, and must cease before matins. The pilgrim goes first to a church-yard, or to several if there be time. If a pestilence is at hand he hears the grave- diggers at work, and sees funeral processions moving about in every direction. If he passes a house he knocks gently at the door, and asks, Is any person to die here ? If such is to be the case the doomed person himself answers, Yes; if not, a mystic voice from within re- plies, No. If the harvest is tobe abundant, the fields will resound with the noise of sickle and scythe, and diminutive men will be seen bearing great sheaves, or driving wains loaded with hay and drawn by mice. lf the harvest is to be scanty, few people will be seen in the fields; empty wagons will be driven along, while the idle reapers sit sorrowfully by the way-side. If there is to be war, the woodmans axe will be heard ringing through the forest, the road will be thronged by phantom warriors, and the melancholy cry of the plover will sound in the dim distance. Every approaching ca- lamity, such as fire or flood, will be prefigured near the spot where it is to take place. Should a man have performed the rounds for six suc- cessive years, on the seventh he will encounter a horseman, from whose mouth proceed flames of fire, and holding a Runic tablet between his teeth. If the pilgrim succeeds in getting pos- session of this tablet he will acquire the power of seeing eighteen feet underground, and be able to answer any question which may be put to him. Should he perform two more pilgrim- ages, upon entering a grave-yard he will en- counter a troop of dwarfs, with magic hats on their heads. They will try by all sorts of imp- ish tricks to make him laugh. Should he do this he will lose his Runic tablet, and forfeit all the results of his nine pilgrimages. If buffoon- ery fails, the dwarfs try to frighten him by hor rid visions. If they do not succeed in this be- fore the matin hour they lose the power of getting off until one of them has given up his magic hat. The possessor of the Hunic tablet and the magic hat becomes thenceforth a great soothsayer, to whom all hidden things are re- vealed without the necessity of again going upon the Ars gang. On Jul-day every one makes a point of being present at matins, which usually commence long before daybreak. Many of the worship- ers bear torches of pitch-pine. The bright flames, converging toward the church from ev- ery direction, present a striking spectacle. The torches are all flung in a heap before the church door, making a brilliant bonfire. The church is brilliantly illuminated, for, besides the candles upon the altar and the chandeliers, candles are burning in every pew. The service is performed in the solemn manner which char- acterizes the Episcopal ritual; but the ofliciating priests, instead of their usual black garments, wear long flowing white robes, with a large gilt cross on the back. On leaving church the peo- ple enter upon a regular race for their homes, for the man who first reaches his homestead will be the first to have his crops safely housed in the autumn. The remainder of the day is passed in quietness, each family by itself, nei- ther paying nor receiving visits. St. Stephens Day, December 26, is observed as a day of pastime and recreation. In most of the hamlets there is a public play-room. Here, or, in case it is wanting, in some private house, the neighbors assemble to engage in singing, dancing, and other pastimes. Before the amusements begin four maidens enter the room; two of them bear refreshments, the other two carry a tub, in which is planted a Jul-bush ornamented with tapers and ~ny rib- bons. This is placed on the floor, and the four maidens form a ring around it, singing a song of welcome. There are some superstitions connected with the New Year. If the moon is visible on New- Years Eve a person sometimes goes into the open air with a psalm-book in one hand, a piece of bread in the other, and a silver coin in his mouth. Then, looking at the moon, he al- lows the book to open of itself. If it opens at a bridal psalm; he will be married during the year, if at a funeral psalm, he will die. Nyet, or the first new moon of the year, furnishes oc- casion for innumerable auguries. For as many days as the new moon is obscured by the clouds the se,~d will be delayed in coming up after planting. The evening-star is the servant of Nyet. If the star sets before the moon, there will be an abundant harvest, for the master is then following the servant, begging him to re- main, while the servant refuses, because when the harvest is plentiful he can live without serv- itude. If Nyet sets first, the crops will be scarce, and the servant is following the nmaster, begging to be retained in his place. The oc- currences of Ne~v-Years Day indicate what will FOLK-LIFE IN SWEDEN. 167 C happen through the year. If a person receives children and servants, giving them an Easter- money on that day, he will continue to do it; fright, to deter them from committing sin, if he pays it ont then, he will have to keep on which caused so much suffering to the Son of paying. If the skies are red on New-Years God. This custom is now ohserved only in Day, tronhies are at hand. If the wind hiows sport hy children. The rods with which onr hard, there will he average crops. If the sun Saviour was scourged are supposed to have shines hrightly, hard times may he expected. heen twigs of the dwarf hirch; hence that shrnh Passion-week, with the exception of Good- is called Good-Fridays rod. Before the Friday and Easter-day, is ohserved as a joyous crucifixion this shruh is said to have heen a festival. Formerly it was customary on Good- lofty tree, the pride of the forest; hut since the Friday for parents and masters to flog their cruel scourging inflicted with its hranches it has 168 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. been condemned to grow only in fens and mo- rasses, with hardly power to lift its feeble head above the ground. During the agony in the garden the Redeemer was seated nader an aspen. Before that time the leaves of this tree were as firmly fixed as those of any other; but on witnessing the great agony their fibres burst asunder, and from that day tbe slightest breath of wind causes them to tremble. There are many pleasant bird-legends con- nected with the Saviours passion. When he *as hanging upon the cross a little bird perched upon the wood, twittering, Svala, svala honorn, Console, console him. Hence she received the name of scala, swallow, and in memory of her pity for the Saviour it was ordained that blessings should always attend those who pro- tected her. Hence the swallow is every where looked on with kindness, and it is considered wicked to molest her or destroy her nest. The turtle-dove also hovered over the cross, utter- ing her mournful note, Kern, kern, that is, Jiqnie, Lord, Lord. Since that time this dove has never been joyful, but wings her flight throughout the world, ever repeating her sor- rowful cry, Kern, kurd, kern. Another bird hovered over the tree, crying, Styrlc, styrk honoin, Strengthen, strengthen him. Hence she re- ceived her name of styrk, stork, and in re- membrance of her affectionate sorrow the gift was bestowed upon her of bringing peace and happiness to the households where she is per- mitted to build her nest and rear her young undisturbed. The stork is a welcome visitor throughout Sweden, and it is considered an act of piety to protect and cherish her. The pine bull-finch, or cross-bill, is said not only to have pitied the Saviour, but to have endeavored with its strong bill to pull out the nails which held him to the cross, and the red marks, ever since seen upon its beak, are the stains of the sacred blood. An egg is considered a symbol of the resur- rection, for although apparently lifeless matter, it has yet within itself a germ which, vivified, bursts its shell, and soars aloft as a rejoicing bird. Hence on Easter-eve hard-boiled eggs are eaten, and eggs gayly decorated are exchanged, with the joyful exclamation, Christ is arisen! There are some superstitions connected with Easter-week for which no explanation can be given. If a house is cleanly swept at this time, and the broom is hidden in a neighbors house, it will attract thither all the vermin which would otherwise have troubled its owner. One must not, during this week, speak of rats, mice, snakes, or other injurious creatures, otherwise they will swarm through the whole year. Webs of linen must not be left outdoors to bleach overnight, for in that case the ground on which the flax grew would be bewitched and grow unproduc- tive. If a housewife expects good luck with her linen, she must at night bring indoors the brake with which the flax is freed from its woody fibres. No linen garments should be washed, or any household utensils lent during the week. If one wishes to escape being sun- burnt during the year, she must wash in water which has been brought from the spring early in the morning before the birds have begun to sing. The most singular superstition relating to this week ~ertains to Maundy-Thursday. On the evening of this day the Pask-Kiiiraqar, or Eas- ter-witches, set off for the Blue Hills to pay their homage to their Satanic master. They go up the chimneys mounted on rakes or broomsticks. None of these implements should be left around in the open air, otherwise the bags will seize them for their aerial trip. No smoke should be seen to issue from the chimney after sunset., for this somehow facilitates the escape of the bags; so the fire is put out before night, and not lighted until after sunrise on the following morning. For some unexplained reason these witches must begin their flight by going up chimney. This accomplished, all the rest is plain sailing. Their form of incantation is, In Satans name, straight up and away past every corner to the end of the world I Once upon a time a servant-girl, hearing her old mis- tress repeat this formula, and observing the effect, thought it would be good fun to take a similar trip. She bestrode the broomstick, but unluckily, instead of the proper incantation, said, In Satans name, straight up and down! The consequence was that she was tlragged up and down the chimney all night long. The witches remain with their master until early on Easter-morning, when they set out on their re- turn. At this time they can be safely shot, if proper precautions are taken. The marksman must load his gun with a silver or steel ball, and take his station on the daughill at the stable door. As soon as he has fired he must rush into the stable, fling himself upon his face in a dark corner, and not look up until he has slept an hour. If then he does not find a dead.~w itch, it is because his aim was not accurate. May-day, held to be the opening of spring, was an old Scandinavian festival, solemnized, it is said, by sacrificing a child. It is still cel- ebrated in a manner derived from its heathen origin. On the previous evening huge bonfires are built in every hamlet, around which the young people dance, while the older ones draw various auguries from th~ appearance of the flames. On May-day a sort of sham-fight takes place between two parties, one representing Winter and the other Summer. Winter, how- ever, always gets the worst of it in the end. He is buried in effigy, and ashes strewn over the grave. The children on this da.y make a point of wandering into the woods for the purpose of robbing the nests of the magpies. The eggs and young are put in a basket and borne to every house, the children singing a song, which runs thus! Best loves from Master and M ame Magpie, From all their eggs and all their fry. Oh, give them alms, if ever so small! Else hens and chickens and eggs and all, A prey to the magpies will surely fall. Every housewife gives them something for a FOLK-LIFE IN SWEDEN. 169 May banquet. May-day is really the only gala day of the Swedish children. On this day, also, the Easter witches are wont to send their Troll hares to suck the neighbors cows. The cattle are usually confined in the cow-houses, which are fumigated with brimstone. In the evening they are carefully inspected; and if any injury is found upon them it is put down to the ac- count of the witches, and a light is made by striking two flints over the creature, which is held to be a snre pi~ventive of any further evil consequences. The products of the dairy enter largely into the food of the Swedish people; and cattle constitute a considerable part of their wealth. These, during the long and severe winters, must be shut up in the cattle-houses, bnt on the ap- proach of spring they give unmistakable tokens of their longing for the open air and fresh food. About the middle of May they are tnrned out into the cleared fields surrounding the home- stead. By the time these are eaten down, the forest trees have put forth their young leaves, and are fit to browse, and the grass has sprung up in the glades. To each hamlet pertains a forest tract, partially cleared up, often several miles distant. This is called a Sifter, and in it are. built little log-hnts called Stuga, one for each proprietor. Before the middle of June the flocks and herds are led out into the siiter, every animal, large and small, being tarred with the sign of the cross to protect it from evil spirits. Every cow has her own name, and the young ones are now formally christened by being struck three times on the back with a bough of the Bonn, Rowan, or mountain - ash, her name being at the same time pronounced. These names are usually fanciful, such as Rose, Gem, Lady-bird, Snow-drop, Welcome. A staid old milky mother is promoted to the rank of bell- cow, and the others learn to follow the tink- ling of the bell hung upon her neck. Each separate herd is under the care of two or three young women, who accompany the animals, and usually carry a pouch of meal, from which they every flow and then give a handful to each ani- mal. The journey occupies a whole day, the cattle browsing and resting on the way, the herd-girls employing themselves in knitting. Arrived at the sfiter, the herd-girls take up their residence in the stugas, and occupy themselves in making cheese and butter, or cutting and stacking the grass which grows in the swampy glades. Not unfrequently the master and his family come to the sliter, and pass days camp- ing out, assisting the herd-girls in cutting the hay and tender shoots of trees to be stored away for winter fodder. These summer mouths are perhaps the pleasantest season of the whole year. St. Johns Day, which comes at midsummer, is ingrafted upon an old heathen festival held in honor of Balder, the god of light, or the Sun. St. Johns Eve is the most joyous night of the whole year, and is signalized by bonfires blazing on every height, around which the peo ple dance, and through which they jump, little thinking that the custom dates back to the old times when their heathen ancestors passed through the fire in honor of Balder, Baal, or Moloch. The great attraction of St. Johns Eve is the Maj-Stang, usually translated May- pole, although it appears to have nothing to do with May-day. It consists of a tall spruce, often of the size of a mans body, stripped of its branches, and hung from top to bottom with ornaments, hoops, branches, flo~vers, flags, and streamers. Each hamlet, and nearly every con- siderable homestead, has its Mqj-Stang, around which on St. Johns Day all the population, old and young, dance and sing. Every care is laid aside, and all give themselves up to the enjoy-. meat of the hour. On St. Johns Eve, also, it is held that the curtain between the visible and invisible worlds is partly lifted, and various forms of divination of the future are practiced. As on Easter-eve, the mysterious Ars gang may now be performed. St. Peters Day, June 29, wat in Catholic times a high day; but its observance has fallen into disuse. Some curious legends relating to the prince of the apostles are yet treasured up among the Swedish peasantry. It is said that once during the reign of Nero he was some- how released from his bonds. Wandering about the country he met the Saviour. Lord, whither goest thou ? asked the apostle. To Rome, to be crucified again, was the response. Peter then saw that he had somehow weakly avoided the pains of martyrdom. He returned to Rome, gave himself up, and at his own re- quest was nailed to the cross head downward, since he deemed himself unworthy to suffer in the same manner as his Master had done. There is another legend respecting St. Peter, not al- together creditable to the apostle, which, how- ever,~ is told, in substance, of many others in various ages and countries. The apostle, so runs the legend, was once on board a ship with fifteen Christians and as many Jews. A vio- lent storm sprung up, and it was resolved that half the passengers should be cast overboard to save the lives of the others, the victims to be chosen by lot. Peter arranged all in a certain order in line, and announced that every ninth man, counting from the head of the line, should be thrown into the sea, until the whole number of fifteen was made up. When all was over it was found that all of the Christians were saved, and all of the Jews drowned. The following is the order in which they wer~ arratiged: 4 C., 5 J., 2 C., 1 J., 3 C., 1 J., 1 C., 2 J., 2 C., 3 J., 1 C., 2 J., 2 C., 1 J. The apostle had to go along the diminishing line six times, tak- ing at the first, second, and third rounds three victims each, and at the fourth, fifth, and sixth two each. Any one who chooses to verify the accuracy of Peters calculation will find that the following is the order, as they originally stood, in which the victims were flung over- board: Nos. 9, 18, 27; 6, 16, 26; 7, 19, 30; 12, 24; 8,22; 5,23. 170 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. _ 7- -p Another popular legend respecting Peter is evidently of modern date: A certain Pope pre- sented himself at the gates of Paradise, and desired Peter, the custodian, to unlock the door nnd give him admittance. You say that you have the keys of heaven; unlock the door for yourself, said the apostle. The Pope replied It is true that I have the old keys, hut Luther has been altering the lock so that they will no longer fit. Slotter-b1 answering to our harvest-home, is a great peoples festival. It takes place on each estate when the last load of grain has heen safely housed. The proprietors, in turn, give a feast to all their dependents and neigh- hors. Besides abundant good cheer and ale, the fiery potato brandy, called finicel, the favor- ite strong drink of the Swedes, flo~vs freely, and a good part of the guests find themselves laid up under the tables. The Swedes, indeed, can not be called a tem- perate people. Formerly, when any one could distill finkel, its cost was only twenty-five cents a gallon, and the peasants drank it as freely as water. Stringent laws were, indeed, enacted against drunkenness. By a royal ordinance, put forth in 1814, any person who drank so that be showed a disorderly state of mind was considered guilty of the crime of drunkenness. For the first offense he was fined a dollar and a quarter. For the second and third offenses the fine was increased in a compound ratio. For the fourth, besides a fine of five dollars, he was put in the stocks one Sunday, and declared from the pulpit incapable of voting or holding office. If convicted a fifth time be was to be sentenced to bard labor for six months; and for the sixth offense, to bard lahor for a year. If any one appeared drunk in the presence of any officer holding the kings commission, or at any public meeting, the fines were doubled. If at church, the fine for the first offense was five dollars, besides public church censure. For partaking of the sacrament when drunk the fine was ten dollars. If any one died in consequence of drinking, he must be silently buried. About six years ago private distilla- tion was forbidden, and heavy excise duties laid upon brandy. This has greatly raised the price of finkel, and diminished its consumption, TilE MAJ-5TANO. FOLK-LIFE IN SWEDEN. 171 causing a very sensible decrease in drunken- ness. Marriage is the one great event in the life of a Swedish peasant. There are innumerable marriage customs, varying in different districts. Sometimes the preliminary courtship is con- ducted by a Bbnemaa, or asker. [his is usually a shrewd, elderly peasant, who knows all about the affairs of the neighborhood. If the proposed suitor is like to be acceptable to the maiden and her parents, the b6neman brings him to the house. The young people must not on this occasion speak together, or seem to have any idea of the purport of the visit. After~vard, if matters go on favorably, a public betrothal takes place, the groom pre- senting the bride-elect with a prayer-book, and receiving in return some article wrought by her o~rn hands. This betrothal is a sort of half marriage, but it may be set aside by the consent of both parties. The wedding proper does not usually take place for some time; in some parts, indeed, not until the bride has blelcnet, that is, literally, bleached, or turned pale, a eu- phemistic phrase, indicating that she is likely to become a mother. The Church has set its face resolutely against this custom, but appar- ently with less success than is desirable. The wedding takes place either at the church, the parsonage, or at the house of the brides parents. if it is to be solemnized in the church, the bridal procession, mounted on horseback, and preceded by musicians, ride thrice around the 2lfaj-Staag, and then proceed to the sacred edifice, in front of which a triumphal arch is often erected. If the wedding is to take place at home, the clergyman and friends of the groom meet at his house, whence, after being hospitably entertained, they proceed to the home of the bride. The bride is arrayed in her best, one distinguishing article of attire be- ing the bridal shoes, which must be made without buckles or ties, in order that she may escape a difficult child-birth. A silver coin ought to be placed in each shoe, which will in- sure that money shall never be wanting to tht young couple. As soon as she has put on the shoes she ought to go to the cattle-house and milk one of the cows, so that milk may never fail in her new home. The bride ought, if pos- sible, to get a peep at the groom through her wedding ring before he sees her; this will in- sure that he will prove a kind husband. If she means to have the upper hand in the household, she ought., while the ceremony is going on, to have her foot a little in advance of his, and drop a glove or handkerchief; if he stoops to pick it up, he will be fated to bend his back during his whole wedded life. While the nup- tial preparations are going on one should not make a noise with the well-pole, as this would lead to quarrels among the guests. It is advis- able, also, to set a couple of boys fighting near the house; this will insure that the guests ~vil1 not quarrel. After the marriage has been performed there is great feasting at the bride-house. This often lasts several days, the guests bringing the eatables. If the feast is prolonged too far, the hostess sets before the guests a large rice-pud- ding. This is understood as a delicate hint that they are expected to take their leave, and is always cheerfully complied with. Not un- frequently, especially among the poorer classes, the bride-expectant, some time before the wed- ding, goes about ~tmong her fr~iends and ac- quaintances soliciting flax and wool as a pro- vision for housekeeping. The future groom, in like manner, goes about asking for grain, usually oats, for seed. She is called a flax aAavEsT-aoME. 172 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. beggar, and he an oat-beggar. rhey are expected, however, in turn, to give like presents to others under similar circumstances. There are innumerable superstitions connect- ed with courtship, marriage, and child-birth. If a youth and maiden eat of the same piece of bread, they will fall in love with each other. A youth must not present his intended with a knife or scissors, for they will cut love ; nor with a handkerchief, for it will wipe away her inclination for him; nor with shoes, for they will lead her to walk off with another. If a girl is kind to the cat, she will have fine weath- er on her marriage-day. If it rains on the wedding-day, the young couple will be rich. If several couples are married at the same time, one of them will have ill-luck. On returning from church the bride should dismount quickly, snatch off the bridle from the horse, loosen the saddle-girth, and give him a tap on the nose. She will then have easy labor. The same end may be attained by her creeping through the collar of the harness. The groom, on his wed- ding-day, should wear a shirt made by the bride; this should then he laid aside to serve for his shroud. If, on the night preceding the nuptials, she has an infant boy to sleep with her, the first-born child will be a son. At the nuptial hanquet she should taste of every dish, and also bite the table-cloth; she will not then be tiouhled with longings during gestation. It behooves a mother-expectant to he care- ful in many respects. She must not go bare- headed, or the child will be liable to scrofula. If she looks upon an empty sack with its mouth untied, the child will he always hungry. If she passes nuder a hide from ~vhich the hair has not been removed, and does not touch it with her hand, her offspring will have the men- sles. If she looks through a crevice in the door, or an auger-hole in the wall, the child will squint. If she eats the egg of a gray hen, the infant will be freckled. If she smells a corpse, the child will have bad breath. If she sees a half-cloven log of wood with the wedge left in the opening, or looks upon a dead hare with the head on, the babe ~vill have a hare-lip. Hence the universal practice is to cut off the head of a hare as soon as it is shot. When the child is horn the fire must not be suffered to go out until it is baptized; other- wise the Trolls will change it for another. As soon as the infant is born a book should be placed under its head, to make it quick to learn. A newly horn boy should be dressed in a shift, a girl in a shirt; this ~vi 11 make them accepted when marriage proposals are on the carpet. In both cases the linen should be new, and then their clothes will last longer. The child must touch a dog hefore it does a cat, so that it~ flesh may heal readily. If the moon is suffered to shine on its face, it will not be sun- burnt. The empty cradle must never be rock- ed, otherwise the child will be noisy and puliag. It should not eat and read at the same time, or it will have a bad memory. If it is expected to thrive, it should never be loused on Sun- day. If it is loused at the back of one ear, and not of the other, a dog ~vill hite it. In its first bath shotdd be placed the mothers wedding- ring, with money and silver - ware; this will cause it to become rich when it grows up. A fresh-laid egg, placed in the bath, will make the childs skin fair; a red cloth will give it a blooming complexion. An infant should never be left entirely naked, for this will enable an ill- wisher to cast the evil-eye, and thus bring all sorts of sickness upon it; to guard against WEDDING PROcEsSION. FOLK-LIFE IN SWEDEN. 173 this a thread should be kept tied around its arm, so that it may never be absolutely un- dressed. Before the infant is baptized a bit of bread should be given to it, which should then be taken away and given to a dog; the animal will then be afflicted with all the mala- dies destined for the child. Just before chris- tening the child should have a spanking ; this will give it a good memory. The woman who carries the child to the church must not allow any one to pass her on the road; if she does, people will always be getting ahead of it. If she holds the boy high up, so that every body can see him, he will not-be shy or bashful. If the child cries at the fout, it will have a mu- sical voice. When brought back from church the mother should meet the child at the door and give it a cake, so that it may never stand in need of food. It should sleep with her in the dress in which it was baptized; this will canse it to be religious. If the child has con- vulsions in teething, its iAothes must all be burn- ed. Hence the first garments are nsually cheap, so that, if thus destroyed, the loss may be less. The superstitions connected with sickness and diseases are beyond enumeration. Sick persons will recover more rapidly if supplied with food from some larder other than their own. If a man has a sudden fit of colic, it is because a woman in child-bed has by magic transferred her pains to him; but if he buttons his breeches aronnd a chopping-block and gives it a good shaking, the pains will leave him and .go back to the rightful sufferer. Toothache may be cured by rubbing the tooth with a horseshoe nail, which must then be driven into a growing tree; but if the tree is after~vard cut down, the toothache will return. Hooping- cough is cured by drinking water from the hol- low of a chnrch-door key. Boils may be got rid of by rubbing some of the matter which exudes from them upon a copper coin, which is to be laid down at a place where four roads meet; if any one picks up the coin, the boils ~vill be transferred to him. They may also be cured by throwing some of the discharged mat- ter into a stream which runs toward the north. Warts may be got rid of by dropping upon them water which has lodged on the latch of a gate, or by tying a thread around them and then burying it in the earth; when the thread has rotted away the warts will have disappear- ed; or by dropping a pea for each wart in a well; or by rubbing them against a tombstone. Corns may be cured thus: Some one, speaking of a person recently deceased, will say, Poor Hans is dead. And so are my corns, replies the sufferer. When this has been repeated three several times the cure will he effected. One can escape the ague by carefully refraining from touching any kind of food before washing the hands in the morning. If a person with a running sore passes over a grave, the ulcer will heal very slowly, or perhaps not at all. Earache may be cured byswallowing the scrapings from a wedding-ring, or by having some one blow into the ear through the quill of an eagle. A sty upon the eyelid is occasioned by the suf- ferer having seen a chair or stool bottom up- ward without spitting upon it; to cure the sty some one must bore three holes in the floor in front of the patient, and spit through each of them. Spitting is indeed a preventive against all sorts of maladies. Before sleeping in a strange bed the Swedish peasant always spits into it; if a person who had previously occu- pied the bed had any contagious disease, this will preserve the new-coiner from infection. Expectoration is also a sure safeguard against evil spirits and demons. IDropsy arises from the sufferer having drank brandy mixed with milk or water; it is curable so long as the pa- tients mother is living, but not afterward. Loathing for food may be cured in two ways: Give a bit of bread to a dog, then take it away and give it to the sick person; or let him eat a piece of bread-and-butter which has for some time been held down the opening of a close- stool. When any one complains of toothache, earache, sore throat, heart-burn, or the like, if the person to whom the lamentation is address- ed, will say, Thats a lie, the ailment will at once disappear. A portion of consecrated bread, withdrawn by the communicant from his month during the administration of the eucha- rist, is a sovereign remedy. for all disorders in man or beast; or if rammed down a gun, it will cause it to shoot straight. In Catholic times mass wine was considered equally efficacious. But of all remedies there is no other one which the common people hold to be as efficacious as the warm blood of a crim- inal who has suffered death by beheading. The Reverend Doctor Willman says that not long ago, at an execution in the province of Scania, he saw more than seventy invalids walking around the scaffold and within the surrounding cordon of soldiers. They had all 6htained permission of the criminal to drink of his blooda precaution essential to the efficacy of the medicine. The instant the fatal axe fell they all rushed up with cups and spoons to secure some of the blood which spouted from the headless trunk. Each, having swallowed his portion, threw the dish behind him, and was seized by a couple of friends, who walked him backward for a while, and the desired cure was supposed to be effected. We can not wonder that the Mormon mis- sionaries have succeeded in making many con- verts among a people who, far from ignorant, yet cherish from genermAion to generation the strange superstitions a few ofwhichwe have here set forth. 174 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. THE PASSION PLAY IN OBERAMMERGAU IN 1870. THE history of the religious drama is the history of the gradual development of Christianity out of the forms and customs of paganism. As the Christian religion he- came prevalent it hegan to assume the old rohes and symhols, to adopt the old festivals, and, after retrenching and reshaping them, to put them to new uses. The Christian Church, far from desiring to outrage the ideas and feel- ings of a people hrought up to pagan ohserv- ances, sought rather to smooth the way of con- version, and skillfully transferred the old pr~c- tices to the new worship. The ancient sym- hols ~vere retained, the ancient forms and usages continued. The pagan festivals were cele- hrated under ne~v titles, and consecrated to the commemoration of Christian doctrines and an- niversaries. The saints assumed the place of the demigods, and even the old gods and god- desses were, hy a change of name, adopted and christened. The Virgin, under different titles, took the attrihutes now of Diana, with her sym- hol of the horned moon; now of Juno, with her symhol of the white lily, veil, and ewe-lamh; and now of Venus, with her symhol of the dove. Orpheus and Apollo, in like manner, were taken as types of Christ; and the vineyard of Bacohus hecame the vineyard of the Lord, as may he seen in the cloisters of the old church of Sta. Agnese in Rome. The high-priest of the new religion kept the ancient title of Pun- tifex Maximus. Prayers were said after the ancient fashion hy stretching upward the hands, as in the paintings in the catacomhs of St. Calixtus. Whatever could be retained was, with wise prevision, kept, so as to shock estah- lished prejudices as little as possihle, and to make the path to the new rites easy. The new worship took place in the old Basilica. The forms of haptism were essentially the same as the ancient lustrations; and the ceremonies of Pasqua still retain the pagan peculiarities, when the high-priest went to all the houses to hless and purify them, carrying, as now;a light- ed torch and an egg, and consecrating them to the goddess then, as now to the Madonna. The Liheralia in honor of Bacehus were trans- formed into the festival of St. Joseph, with cer- tain modifications. The Palilia were continued in honor of St. John. The Floralia or Ludi Florales were devoted to the Virgin, and even to this day are celebrated in Geuzano in honor of the Madonna dci Fiori, under the name of Infiorata, when the streets, after the ancient custom, are strewn with flowers arranged in fantastic patterns. The Cerealia in honor of Ceres, with their fasting, white robes, vows of chastity, and processions of women and virgins, who strewed their heds with agnus castus, were adopted to celehrate the visitation of the Virgin; and the garlands that were hrought by the peasants of Euna to crown the statues of THEATRE OF THE OIIEHAMMEHGAU PA55TON PLAY.

The Passion Play in Oberammergau, 1870 174-187

174 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. THE PASSION PLAY IN OBERAMMERGAU IN 1870. THE history of the religious drama is the history of the gradual development of Christianity out of the forms and customs of paganism. As the Christian religion he- came prevalent it hegan to assume the old rohes and symhols, to adopt the old festivals, and, after retrenching and reshaping them, to put them to new uses. The Christian Church, far from desiring to outrage the ideas and feel- ings of a people hrought up to pagan ohserv- ances, sought rather to smooth the way of con- version, and skillfully transferred the old pr~c- tices to the new worship. The ancient sym- hols ~vere retained, the ancient forms and usages continued. The pagan festivals were cele- hrated under ne~v titles, and consecrated to the commemoration of Christian doctrines and an- niversaries. The saints assumed the place of the demigods, and even the old gods and god- desses were, hy a change of name, adopted and christened. The Virgin, under different titles, took the attrihutes now of Diana, with her sym- hol of the horned moon; now of Juno, with her symhol of the white lily, veil, and ewe-lamh; and now of Venus, with her symhol of the dove. Orpheus and Apollo, in like manner, were taken as types of Christ; and the vineyard of Bacohus hecame the vineyard of the Lord, as may he seen in the cloisters of the old church of Sta. Agnese in Rome. The high-priest of the new religion kept the ancient title of Pun- tifex Maximus. Prayers were said after the ancient fashion hy stretching upward the hands, as in the paintings in the catacomhs of St. Calixtus. Whatever could be retained was, with wise prevision, kept, so as to shock estah- lished prejudices as little as possihle, and to make the path to the new rites easy. The new worship took place in the old Basilica. The forms of haptism were essentially the same as the ancient lustrations; and the ceremonies of Pasqua still retain the pagan peculiarities, when the high-priest went to all the houses to hless and purify them, carrying, as now;a light- ed torch and an egg, and consecrating them to the goddess then, as now to the Madonna. The Liheralia in honor of Bacehus were trans- formed into the festival of St. Joseph, with cer- tain modifications. The Palilia were continued in honor of St. John. The Floralia or Ludi Florales were devoted to the Virgin, and even to this day are celebrated in Geuzano in honor of the Madonna dci Fiori, under the name of Infiorata, when the streets, after the ancient custom, are strewn with flowers arranged in fantastic patterns. The Cerealia in honor of Ceres, with their fasting, white robes, vows of chastity, and processions of women and virgins, who strewed their heds with agnus castus, were adopted to celehrate the visitation of the Virgin; and the garlands that were hrought by the peasants of Euna to crown the statues of THEATRE OF THE OIIEHAMMEHGAU PA55TON PLAY. 175 THE PASSION PLAY IN OBERAMMERGAU IN 1870. Ceres were laid upon the altar to the Madonna. however, he paid the penalty of his life. The The feast of St. Peter ad Vincula was also in- I Pr~tor Alypius, enraged at his interference, stituted to supersede the annual pagan festival and himself passionately devoted to these in commeiAoratiOn of the victory of Augustus games, ordered him to he seized and slain on at Actium. In the catacomhs and the oldest the spot. The emperor, however, struck by of the churchos in Rome, as in Sta. Agnese, for this hei~oic act of Telemachus, immediately instance, may be seen in picture and sculpture decreed that thenceforth no combats by men the mingling of the two religions, where the against men should take place. The Vena- fable of Eros and Psyche, and Bacchus with tiones, or combats of men with beasts still con- his attributes, are sculptured on Christian tombs tinned, however, until the edict of Justinian and sarcophagi. So, too, in the tombs near the abolished them also. ruins of the church of St. Stephano, on the an- Under Theodoricus, as we know by the test- cient Via Latina, exist sarcophagi of the Chris- imony of Cassiodorus and Ammianus Marcel- tians dedicated to the Diis Manibus, and bear- linus, comedies still continued to he acted; and ipgupon them figures and devices belonging to St. Thomas Aquinas speaks of spectacles and the purely pagan times. plays by mimi as having existed for previous The wild festivities of the Saturnalia, also, centuries. At the close of the thir~l century were not utterly discarded, but only modified only plays hy mimi were recited, and these were in form and character. The whole month of chiefly improvisations. The theatre had fallen December was formerly dedicated to Saturn, exclusively into the hands of buffoons and bar- but the Saturnalia proper were celebrated from lequins, and was given over to the most licen- the 17th of the month to the 23d. The first tious performances. Out of these grew the first three days were the Saturnalia proper; the Mysteries, or Passion Plays, an~l hence the pe- next two were the Opalia; the last two were culiar character which these early Christian the Sigillaria. These festivals were devoted to dramas exhibit. The term mystery, as applied the celebration of Christmas and Epiphany. to these plays, is not, in the opinion of M. R.d- The Sigilla were so called from the little earth- yule, derived from the Greek, nor does it signi- en-ware figures and toys ~vhich were then hawk- fy that the events represented are of a super- ed about; and this same practice still.survives natural or mysterious character; but comes in Rome at Epiphany. The Moccoletti, also, from the Latin word ministeriurn, a ministry is a continuation of the Saturnalian Cerei, and or function, and is eqidvalent to the Italian the mock king of Twelfth-night is a feature of funzione and the Spanish auto. the ancient festival. According to Mr. Hone (in his work on An- In consequence of the terrible changes which cient Mysteries), a Jewish play, of which frag- followed the introduction of Christianity into ments are still preserved, in Greek iambics, is the Roman empirethe decay of its power, the first drama known to have existed on a pride, and wealth, the assaults from without, Scripture subject. It is taken from Exodus, the commotions within, the destruction of in- and represents the departure of the Israelites ~ustry, and the poverty of the peopleone great from Egypt under their leader and prophet. influence which had previously modified the The principal characters are Moses, Sapphora, character and cultivated the tastes of the people and God in the burning bush. Moses delivers gradually died out. This was the drama. The the prologue in a speech of sixty lines, and his theatres still remained, but they were either de- rod is turned into a serpent on the stage. The serted and falling into ruin, or given over to author of this play is Ezekiel, a Jew; and War- representations of a low and strolling character. ton supposes that he wrote it after the destruc- Per omnes civitates cadunt theatra inopia re- tion of Jerusalem, to animate his dispersed rum, says St. Augustine, recalling with regret brethren with the hope of a future deliverance, the dramas which in his youth he had so pas- and that it was composed in imitation of the sionately enjoyed. Tragedy and comedy had Greek drama at the close of the second cen- lost their ancient dignity, and mimi had usurped tury. the stage. Constantine and Constans vainly is- Appollinarius, Bishop of Laodicea, after- sued edicts prohibiting the gladiatorial shows ward, in the reign of Julian, not only trans- in the Colosseumfor such was the craving of lated much of the Old Testament into heroic the populace for those exciting exhibitions that verse, but also turned some of its stories into they still survived despite the imperial decrees; plays. These, however, are entirely lost. The and it was not until the sixth century that they first mystery play of which any complete record entirely ceased, and were finally abolished by now exists is the Christos Paschon, written in the edict first of Honori,as, and subsequently Greek in the fourth century, and attributed to of Justinian. They would probably have sur- Gregory Nazianzen. In the prologue it is vived still longer had it not been for a remark- called an imitation of Euripides; and the au- able incident that occurred in the Colosseum in thor calls attention to the fact that in this play, the year 404, when the monk Telemachus, i~- for the first time, the Virgin Mary makes her spired by horror at these bloody scenes, rushed appearanc~ on the stage. The play in itself is intrepidly into the arena, and vehemently de- neither original nor interesting. The action claimed against them during the performance is null, taking place outside the scene, and of some gladiatorial combats. For this act, narrated to the audience by messengers; and 176 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. z C C C z lIK~. z THE PASSION PLAY IN OBERAMMERGAU IN 1870. 177 many of the verses are stolen bodily from Eu- ripides. The play is, however, historically in- terestng, as being the first serious attempt to turn the theatre to the advantage of the new religion, and to supplant the pagan by a Chris- tiati drama. Some of the early fathers seem to have been warmly